Running for Safety
by britduck21
Summary: Fraser returns to his cabin after a tough time at the Consulate, never expecting to find what he does.
1. Teaser

_Disclaimer: Due South and all its characters belong to Alliance. This story is for the pure enjoyment of the fans, and no infringement on rights is intended._

_A/N: This is the first Due South story I wrote, maybe a year or so ago. It is also quite a long one. Comments and constructive criticism is very much welcomed. If you enjoy the story, please to let me know - I live for feedback. So, without further ado, on to the teaser..._

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**Running for Safety**

Standing, watching the snow fall, feeling the cold, crisp air fill his lungs with every breath, Benton Fraser took in the scene before him. The frozen tundra was where he belonged. It was where he was born, where he spent his childhood before leaving for the academy, to follow in his father's footsteps. It was what he had always considered home. Until now. Now all he felt was an emptiness that filled every void within him, until he feared it would consume him whole. It was an emptiness borne of her death, of leaving the best friends he had ever known, and of returning to a country where the solitude he had always before viewed as peaceful, now seemed to mock the emptiness he felt within.

He sighed, shouldering his pack and turning finally towards his cabin. Walking the last few paces he thought about his return. He had always imagined a happier time, a time when he would be returning to his home, having fulfilled his duty with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. But instead he had left Chicago because he could not stand to face the heavy atmosphere that greeted him every time he walked through the doors of the consulate. Ottawa had wanted him to stay, to ensure "the continued operation of the Consulate for the citizens of Canada". He had stayed. For as long as he could take it. Then he had had taken leave. It had been quick, once he had decided. A phone call to Ray, a single bag packed and the next commercial flight out of O'Hare, leaving only a completed absence form for Constable Turnbull and the remaining Consulate staff. He knew there would be repercussions for his actions, but he just couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

As he opened the door to the cabin, he felt as though someone had hit him with a sledge hammer. All of the air rushed from his lungs, he couldn't breathe, he felt as though his heart had stopped beating. The sight that greeted him was the last thing he was expecting. Sitting on the couch, a satellite phone pressed to her ear, was the reason for his leaving Chicago. She had raised her head when the door had opened, a look of shock on her normally calm face. She seemed suddenly to remember the person on the other end of the phone, and turned away from him.

"Yes, I understand… yes, actually he's here now… yes sir, I'll deal with it… Understood… I'll be in contact. Goodbye, sir."

She hung up the telephone, and turned to face him.

"Hello Fraser."

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"I'm sorry, son, but there's no way anyone inside could have survived the explosion."

When the call had first come through, he hadn't believed them. He thought it must have been some kind of sick joke. She couldn't be dead, she just couldn't. Not like that. He was meant to be driving her to the function, but there had been an emergency at the Consulate, forcing him to remain behind. She had offered to stay too, but he had refused her help, telling her that there was no need for both of them to remain and risk offending the French ambassador and consequently the French Government if the Canadian Consulate was not represented.

If only he had not been so insistent. If he had accepted her offer of help, she would never have needed a lift home, never have been in the car when it exploded. Her death was deemed a tragic accident. A bomb meant for someone else, and she had been caught in the crossfire.

He still hadn't believed it. Not the phone call. Not when he saw the remnants of the burned out vehicle. Not even when he had spoken to the witnesses, heard them explain how the offer of a lift had been given and accepted. Not until the funeral did the truth final hit him. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

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	2. Chapter 1

_Diclaimer: I own nothing but the story. Everything else belongs to Alliance._

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"Ma'am." He was still reeling from the shock. He didn't know what to think. "You're… I…"

"I know, I'm sorry." Meg Thatcher raised herself from the couch, her eyes never leaving his face. "I should have explained in Chicago, but I couldn't. It was top secret. I had to disappear, you weren't meant to come here. I thought you would stay in Chicago, look after the Consulate. If you took leave, I was to be contacted and by the time you got here, I was meant to be gone, but I guess it went wrong." She smiled slightly. "No one expected you would leave in the middle of the night, without informing Ottawa in advance."

"I left the required forms at the Consulate. There's nothing happening that the remaining staff cannot handle," he replied automatically, though his eyes never quite met hers.

"Fraser…"

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand what's happening here." He looked straight at her now, all of the confusion he felt evident on his face. "What was top secret? Why did you leave?" He paused, taking in a deep breath. "I thought you were dead." The last statement was delivered quietly, the pain behind it clear.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I never meant for a lot of what happened to happen, but I had to disappear, and quickly. It was too dangerous to wait, and simply vanishing from Chicago wouldn't have worked. Even as it is, I'm not sure we got away with it."

"Got away with what? Who's we? Who are you running from?" He had so many questions, and nothing she was saying was making any sense.

"Look, Fraser. It seems like we've got time, unless," she paused looking up at him, her brown eyes unsure, "do you want me to go?" He shook his head silently.

"OK," she sighed. "Then I suggest you come in and close the door, it's cold in here". He hadn't even noticed that he had been standing frozen in the doorway since the moment he had first laid eyes on her. Diefenbaker had already trotted past him, ignoring the woman by the coach, and settled himself down by the fire that was gently blazing in the hearth. "I'll make some tea, and then we can talk, and I'll explain everything, I promise."

She moved off towards the small kitchen area located towards the back of the cabin. He followed her orders automatically, closing the door and moving further in towards the warmth of the fire. He left his pack propped up against the wall and sat down in one of the chairs, watching her with a warily. After the time it had taken him to accept her death, it was hard to trust that what he was seeing now was really her, and not simply his mind playing tricks on him again. In the first few days, he had looked up every time the front door to the Consulate had opened, expecting her to walk in and demand to know what was going on, that rumours of her death were nonsense. But as the days passed, his hopes had lessened until, on the day of her funeral, they died completely.

Yet here she was, in his cabin, making him tea. He would never have dreamed of this, even before her supposed death. She was stood before him now, offering him a mug of steaming liquid. He took it, grateful for the distraction. She sat on the sofa, her own mug cradled in her hands, as though she were trying to draw strength from it warmth.

"It started back when I was still based in Toronto. My partner and I were investigating a case of what appeared to be domestic abuse. But it turned out to be bigger than either of us had originally thought. A neighbour had reported an argument that appeared to have gotten somewhat heated and we were sent to check on the couple. When we arrived, the boyfriend met us and told us it was nothing, an argument that had escalated. Apparently they had a fiery relationship, and it was just their passion coming through. The young woman in question, Jenna, supported him. We were called again a couple of days later but she was never alone, which made it hard for us to talk to her. He was always around somewhere, watching her. She said that everything was fine and asked us not to call again, although she seemed troubled.

"We were forced to leave the case, she wouldn't talk to us and in the end more urgent matters arose. There was nothing we could do if she did not want to help herself." Meg paused, her voice heavy with regret. "It turned out we should have pushed harder, forced her to come to the station, done something to move her away from the boyfriend. It turned out she was the daughter of a powerful politician in Ottawa, and the so-called boyfriend was no such thing. He had been hired to watch her, scare her. She had found something out about a deal in Ottawa, politicians working with organised crime and taking cuts from the profits of the deals. Her finding out had been an accident. She was visiting her father, doing some work for him, and she stumbled across the evidence. Apparently she had made copies and put them somewhere secure, though no one knows where.

"She had managed to get away from the man stalking her. Somehow she managed to give him the slip. When she got to the station, she was so scared, certain he was going to come for her and her father. We promised her that she was safe, that no one was going to harm her in the station." Meg paused, for her throat seemed suddenly tight and talking was hard. Having to tell the man who had probably never in his life made a mistake even a quarter the size of this one was hard. It was harder still as this man's opinion mattered, mattered more than Meg wanted to admit to herself.

"It turned out I was wrong. I promised her we would protect her, but we couldn't. A couple of hours after she first made it to the station, we had managed to set up transport to a safe house somewhere out of the city. I was so sure we had everything covered, but as we left through the back entrance, gun shots rang out. They seemed to come from everywhere. I couldn't think. I just pulled her down to the ground behind this car. Everything happened so fast it seemed like the world was on fire. When the noise finally stopped, I tried to move Jenna, pull her back into the safety of the building. My arm was bleeding and I think I was shouting at her to move quickly, but she just couldn't get up. Then I saw the blood across her stomach. The bullet had entered just below the rib cage and there was internal damage. I remember when the paramedics arrived, Jenna was already so far gone. She just stared at me, knowing I had failed her, knowing she was dying.

"I met her father at the funeral. He had been approached about what he knew in terms of the deals being made, but he would not talk to us. I think they got to him. It was just him and Jenna, you see, so with her gone there was no reason for him not to come forward. But I guess he didn't trust us to protect him, and why should he?" Meg let out a bitter laugh. "It's not like we did a very good job protecting his daughter."

"It wasn't your fault," Ben said. "There was nothing you could have done. She chose to come to you, and you did everything in her power to help her."

"No, I didn't. I promised her I would keep her safe, and I didn't. She died, and I walked away with a grazed arm. It shouldn't have happened like that."

"No, it shouldn't. She didn't deserve to die, but neither did you. The circumstances were out of your control and things ended badly, but you cannot blame yourself for them. I know Jenna wouldn't have."

"You don't know anything! You didn't see the look in her eyes!" Meg snapped at him, before lowering her eyes back down into her now cooling mug, already regretting her outburst. Fraser was sat listening to her, offering reassurance, and all she could do was attack him for his kindness. But he didn't realise that she needed someone to blame, and it was just easier if that person was herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't take it out on you. You come home to your cabin for a holiday and find me here, trespassing, and you very kindly let me stay, and yet I still act like a bitch, taking out all my bitterness and regret over everything that happened on you, when that is the last thing in the world you deserve."

"That doesn't matter," Fraser replied. "But I still don't understand why you had to appear to the world to be dead. And the ambassador in the car with you? What happened to him?"

"My partner on the case was Constable Matt Stevens. We worked together for a couple of years, and we became good friends. Eventually, circumstances meant that I made the move to Ottawa, whilst he chose to remain in Toronto.

"Two weeks before my apparent death, Matt was murdered. Oh, they made it look like an accident. A random shooting that ended in tragedy for one of the RCMP's finest, but it didn't feel right. I had felt like I was being watched, and when I heard about Matt, I contacted someone in Ottawa, someone who would be able to tell me more about it than I would get through any official sources. The following day I got a visit from an old superior. He explained what he thought was going on. Apparently some hot-shot lawyer is attempting to bring a number of MPs to court over a supposed deal that has been made. He says he has proof that certain members of the Government are profiting personally from this deal and that it will cause many small businesses to go out of business.

"As far as anyone can determine, the only proof of corruption in the Government that existed outside of those involved has been the copies that Jenna made before she was killed. Those copies were never found, not by us anyway, but I guess they don't believe that. The criminals must believe that we have the copies, or that Jenna told us where they were, because now they are doing everything in their power to erase everything to do with that case. We couldn't prove anything at the time, so what they think we have now, I don't know, but it was a choice of disappear or be killed. I chose to disappear."

"And the ambassador?"

"There was no ambassador, Fraser. The man everyone saw me get into the car with was in fact a member of the team employed to get me out of Chicago. He was at the function, introduced to everyone as a visiting diplomat and businessman involved in the drilling of oil. An anonymous tip-off to the press informed them of an attempt on the life of 'Ambassador Marceau', and so while they were rushing around elaborating on death threats, setting the scene, we blew the car. We had been careful to ensure that there were witnesses at the function who could testify to seeing me get into the car also. We hoped everyone would assume he was the target, and there would be no questions asked about me. My death would be a tragic accident."

"It worked," Fraser interrupted, and once again Meg was suddenly aware of how her death must have appeared to the man now sitting across from her. She hadn't had the time to really consider the implications of the plan, everything had happened too fast. That didn't mean she had not secretly wondered if Fraser would grieve for her, like she had grieved for him on the train, when she thought he had died falling from the roof. No, she had wondered, she just couldn't let herself focus on that, otherwise he may have been grieving for real.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell you, not then, it would only have put you in danger too and I couldn't risk that."

"I could have helped."

"How, Fraser? What could you have done against people like that? They already killed my partner, what makes you think that they wouldn't have got to you?"

"I had nothing to do with the original case, I could have continued the investigation quietly. They would have had no reason to suspect me."

"Except that they are smarter than that, Fraser. They would have known what you were doing the moment you started asking questions."

"I don't believe that. Why didn't you trust me with this?"

"This isn't about you, Fraser!" Meg felt the anger rising deep inside herself. Didn't he see that she couldn't risk any more lives, she'd killed too many people with this case already. No, it was better if she just disappeared, and then maybe the case would die with her.

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	3. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Not mine. _

_A/N: I hope you are enjoying this so far. This chapter's quite long, but please let me know if you like it. _

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Fraser sat silently, letting her anger at him pass. He didn't understand why she was so against letting anyone help her with this. He could have been there for her, if only she had let him. She didn't need to go through this alone, but he suspected her stubborn pride would not allow her to admit that to herself. He could tell she blamed herself for Jenna's death, but if only she could see that it was not her fault, maybe then she would open up and let him in. But then maybe that was only wishful thinking on his part. He would like nothing more than for her to let him into her life, let him see the person he knew she hid underneath all the layers she would show to the world, but she had told him in no uncertain terms after the incident on the train that that would never happen again, and he would have to respect that, regardless of how he felt. Already today she had let him see more of her than he ever had in Chicago, though he guessed that could be attributed to the stress of the situation she found herself in and he told himself that, for the time being, he would have to be content with that. Right now, he was just happy that she was alive and safe.

The silence was weighing heavily on the room now and Meg felt she had to say something, apologise for shouting at him again, but she just couldn't seem to find the words. Like so many times before, she found that it was just easier to take all her anger, all her frustrations, out on him. He would never argue back, never tell her she was wrong, never show her anything but the utmost respect and she would repay him by taking out on him everything that was wrong in her life. It wasn't fair, and she knew it. He deserved better, but still she just couldn't seem to put into words the apology she felt in her heart.

"I need some air." Her exit was so abrupt that Fraser barely had time to stand respectfully as she walked across the room and out of the front door.

Left alone in the cabin, Fraser was having trouble understanding everything that had happened in the last hour and all the thoughts that were racing round in his head. Nothing made sense. Meg's supposed death and now her sudden reappearance had left him reeling, functioning simply out of routine. It didn't seem right somehow. Everything he knew about the inspector told him she would stand her ground and fight to bring the criminals to justice, instead of running from them. He shook he head, trying to clear mind from all of the conflicting emotions he was feeling. The pain of her death still felt real in his chest, though it was now combined with the relief that she was alive as well as anger at the lack of trust she had placed in him. All of these were mixed together with one other emotion, one that he was determined not to think about. She had told him quite plainly that there was never going to be anything more between them, instructed him to forget about their contact, but still he couldn't help but secretly hope that maybe one day she would change her mind. But for the time being he would respect her wishes and try not to think about too often, though he had long ago realised that he had little control over his dreams. Dreams in which she would come to him, her dark eyes smouldering with a long-hidden passion…

But that was just a dream, and right now there were more important things to deal with. As he moved to place the pack that had been left propped up by the door, a though suddenly hit him. He glanced quickly around the cabin, wondering where she had been sleeping. He was never meant to be here, so he guessed she had been using the bed. Thoughts of her asleep in his bed crept unwillingly into his head as he saw her sleeping peacefully, eyes closed. Fraser inhaled deeply, realising that being here with her was going to be a lot harder than he had first thought.

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When Meg finally re-entered the cabin, her cheeks red from the cold, Fraser had neatly stored his pack and started on a meal for the two of them.

"Ah, Ma'am, I wasn't sure how hungry you were, so I made soup. I hope that's alright."

"That's fine, Fraser. You don't have to cook though. I'm the one intruding in your home, I should be making you dinner."

"I don't consider you an intruder, ma'am. You are a guest and, as such, it is my pleasure to cook, though it is only soup."

Meg smiled slightly at that. "Regardless, I do appreciate it, Fraser."

"I know," Fraser smiled back at her, before returning to preparing the food. As he was working in the kitchen, Meg went about setting the table. Fraser found he was pleased, if not a little unnerved, at the ease with which she moved around his home.

As they sat down to eat, Fraser found himself studying her as she ate. She was dressed more casually than he had ever seen before, in jeans and a deep red sweater, her long hair hung loosely round her shoulders. Her face was relatively free of make-up and so the dark circles beneath her eyes were clearly visible. He found himself wondering how much sleep she had managed to get since leaving Chicago. This case was obviously getting to her more than even she wanted to admit.

Fraser suddenly realised that he was staring, and she had noticed. She was nervously running her fingers through her hair now, as though trying to smooth the already calm locks.

"I'm sorry, ah, I was, um, just thinking about the last time I cooked you dinner," he covered.

At that Meg did smile. "I remember, during the egg case. I still can't believe some of the situations you manage to get yourself into. Only you could have got locked in an air tight incubator trying to help the person who was suing you." Meg shook her head, she still couldn't totally believe the absurdity of the case.

"Ah, well technically ma'am, you were with me, so I don't believe I can be held totally responsible for that situation, seeing as you were the superior on the scene." Fraser smiled back across the table at her.

"Oh no, you are not blaming me for that, I'm not the one who closed the door." The room fell into a comfortable silence as both occupants realised with surprise how easy it was to be in the other's company now that they were out in the middle of nowhere, far away from Chicago and the pressure of RCMP rules and regulations. The silence was broken as Meg added, almost as an afterthought, "Technically, Fraser, I'm not your superior anymore. I'm not even RCMP. I'm dead, which suggests that you needn't call me ma'am, or inspector, or any other title you may come up with."

Fraser shifted slightly in his chair, "Ma'am, ah, um, what would you prefer I call you then?"

"Meg will be fine, Fraser."

"Meg," he repeated softly. It felt strange to be calling his superior, ex-superior he corrected, by her first name. It was the name of the woman in his dreams and he was afraid that he would slip up and reveal those feelings which inevitably accompanied the use of that name. "Ah, would you care for more soup?"

"No, thank you, but you go ahead Fraser. It was delicious."

"Thank you kindly, though it really is a very simple recipe," Fraser replied modestly as he ladled himself another bowl of the steaming soup.

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Once all of the remnants of the dinner had been cleared away – Meg had insisted on helping in spite of Fraser's protests – the issue of sleeping arrangement once again played on Fraser's mind. Perhaps sleeping arrangements was not quite the right term, he planned on insisting that she remained in the bed so that was no problem, no, the issue he was having trouble with was the thought of her sleeping so close to him. The cabin was relatively open plan, there was only a small divider between the bedroom and the main living area, and he had no doubts that he would be able to hear every breathe she took. No, sleeping tonight was not going to be easy.

As Meg walked back into the living area, she noticed that the Mountie was looking somewhat distracted. She wondered what he was thinking about, although she guessed it could be any number of the things that he had had to deal with in the hours since arriving here.

"Fraser?" The time it took for him to respond to the question in her voice told Meg what she had already expected. The Mountie was tired. Not surprising given the journey he had made today, and the mental task of having to deal with a living, breathing Inspector holed up in his cabin. When he did finally acknowledge her presence, his face was once again the impenetrable mask he so often used around her.

"Ma'am. I'm sorry, I was just thinking. Did you say something?"

"I think it's time you went to sleep Fraser, you've had a long day and you look tired."

"I'm fine, really ma'am. If there is something you need…"

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, Fraser. May I remind you that I was your boss, not the other way round." Her voice had taken on a sharper tone. With everything that was going on, Meg was not in the mood to deal with an obviously tired Mountie who was stubbornly refusing to go to bed.

"I'm well aware of that ma'am, but I was just thinking that it would be easier if you kept the bed, as I am more than happy to sleep on the sofa."

"It's your cabin, Fraser. And besides," she added, as he started to protest again, "I haven't been using the bedroom anyway. The couch has been more than adequate, and I would prefer to read a little before I retire."

Realising that further protest would only lead to an argument he was unlikely to win, Fraser relented, though he was sure he could hear his grandmother's voice in his head, berating him for not insisting that she take the bed.

As he moved towards the small bathroom, Fraser frowned slightly, wondering why she had been sleeping on the sofa when the bed was undoubtedly more comfortable. He could see no logical reason to remain in the living area during the night, especially as she would not have been expecting visitors.

Meg watched as Fraser moved into the bathroom. There was no way she could tell him that sleeping in his bed would have been too much for her. Just moving around the living area sent her imagination into overdrive. She could picture everything, from him waking in the morning, getting himself breakfast, feeding Diefenbaker, to him going to bed at night, reading by the small lamp beside his bed. No, being here was hard enough already, she couldn't even think about lying in his bed each night.

Meg shook her head, trying to clear the dangerous thoughts from her mind, cursing Ottawa for deciding that his cabin would be the perfect hide-out. Apparently getting her out of the country so soon after her 'death' was too much of a risk. Hide out for a short time, they had said, you'll be out of the country and safe in no time. Yeah right. In the end, even Fraser had got to the cabin before they even found out he had left Chicago. She did not want to think about how easy it would be for anyone else to find her, especially when those people had far more resources than those few people who knew she was alive.

Stop it Meg, she mentally chastised herself. Fraser didn't find you, he didn't even know you were alive. He simply came for a holiday and happened to come across you, that's all. Even so, if anyone else were to discover her death was not all it had seemed, she didn't even want to consider the consequences, not just for herself, but for everyone around her as well.

At that point Meg found any thoughts of danger pushed firmly from her mind, as Fraser emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in his white boxer shorts and vest. In fact, Meg found herself unable to form a single coherent thought. A blush began to stain Fraser's usually pale cheeks, as he realised that his ex-superior officer was staring at him in a way Ottawa would definitely not approve of, should they ever witness it. The truth was, he had been so busy thinking about her whilst in the bathroom, he had actually forgotten that she was sitting just outside in the main room, and so had walked out in his usual summer bed attire.

"Um, pardon me ma'am, I was just going to bed. Is there anything you need?"

Meg shook her head mutely, still unable to top staring at him.

"Ah, well, goodnight then." Fraser smiled slightly before moving towards the divide that separated the living area and the bedroom.

"Goodnight Fraser." Meg finally managed to find her voice. The shock of seeing him, seeing so much of him, out of uniform and totally relaxed, had shaken her. She hadn't been expecting it, or the feelings that it evoked within her.

Oh God Meg, how are you going to do this? How could you even have considered staying here with him? You should have packed up and ran the moment he walked through the door this afternoon. Even as she thought this, she knew that that would not have been fair on him. As hard as this was on her, she owed it to him to explain.

Sighing, Meg reached into her bag and drew out a book she had taken before leaving. She curled up on the sofa, knowing it would be a long time before she got to sleep that night, and started to read.


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Still not mine._

_A/N: Thank you to Tiffany for her kind review. I am glad you are enjoying it. I would have updated sooner, only I went on holiday to... yep, you guessed it - Canada! Anyway, on with the story..._

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Fraser had lain awake for a long time, before finally drifting off into restless sleep, where dreams persisted into even the most tired parts of his brain. It was still the early hours of the morning when he re-awoke, though he was unaware at first what had awoken him. It was then that he heard the door being gently closed. Instantly wide awake, his thoughts on intruders, he slipped silently out of the bed and stood flat against the wall, peering around the divider, he was taken aback to see the room completely empty. Puzzled, Fraser entered further into the room, still edgy, as though he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He had definitely heard the door, so if no one had come in, Meg must have gone out.

This only served to concern him further. It was dark, barely even morning, and he doubted the temperature was comfortable for someone more used to the southern Canadian climate. So why had she gone outside? And why wasn't she asleep?

Slipping on some clothes, Fraser ventured outside in search of his guest. He didn't have to look far. Sitting on the edge of the porch, wrapped in the blanket from the sofa, sat Meg, staring out into the darkness.

"Ma'am?"

"I thought I asked you to call me Meg."

"Yes ma'am." She could hear the question, the concern, in his voice. He wanted to know what she was doing, but how could she tell him when she wasn't entirely sure herself? "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine Fraser, I just fancied some air."

"You must be freezing out here." Looking at the blanket she sat wrapped in, it wasn't really a question but rather a statement.

"It's not that bad. I kind of like the cold, it makes everything numb." Her voice sounded distant, as though it was coming from somewhere far away.

"That's not good ma'am. I think we should go inside now." Although he knew the temperature was not truly dangerous, not at this time of the year, Fraser was still concerned by her being outside at that time of night without even a winter coat.

"You go, I think I'm going to sit here a while longer."

Fraser paused, knowing that to argue with her would only cause her to remain outside for even longer. Instead, he sat down next to her on the porch. She barely even glanced at him as he settled down beside her. Her lack of response was beginning to concern him.

"It's so peaceful at night, when even the wolves are silent," he said, striving for some semblance of a normal conversation. "When I first moved to Chicago, it was the lack of quiet that took me the longest to get used to."

Meg remained silent, her eyes fixed firmly ahead, staring straight out into the night. Fraser decided to be content to just sit here and hope that maybe she would talk to him in her own time.

The silence between them had been steadily growing, until it reached the point where Fraser could not take it any more. He was not used to this complete and utter silence from Meg Thatcher. He was used to her stubbornness, her anger, the perfection she demanded from herself and everyone around her. These were aspects of her personality he was used to and knew how to deal with. But this complete lack of communication was unnerving. Finally deciding that he had to say something, Fraser took a deep breath.

"Ma'am?" He spoke quietly, almost afraid to disturb her thoughts. "Is there something you're not telling me? About the case, I mean? It's just, you seem, I don't know…"

"I've told you everything you need to know, Fraser." The tone of her voice told him that this was not a subject that was going to be discussed further. But still, Fraser felt that he deserved to know what it was she was running from. He had no doubt there was more to it than she was telling him.

"With all due respect ma'am, I don't think you have."

"It's none of your business!" She snapped, standing up and moving towards the entrance of the cabin.

"I think it is."

"Well you're wrong." She had reached the front door now and, pushing it open forcibly, she moved inside.

Fraser followed her in, determined not to let this rest. "Why won't you trust me?"

Meg turned to face him, sighing. "I do trust you, Fraser, but you need to trust me that this is something that you are better off not knowing."

"That doesn't matter to me. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you won't tell me what is going on. And not just the edited version you have given me. I want to know everything."

"I can't do that, Fraser. I'm leaving the country soon, so the less you know the better. When I go, you have to forget I was ever here. You have to go on like I'm dead."

"I don't think I can do that."

"Well you're going to have to." Her tone was snappish again. "I've worked too hard for you to ruin everything because you can't stop interfering in everyone else business."

An expression of hurt momentarily flitted across his face. It passed quickly, but not so fast that Meg hadn't noticed. She knew that what she had said was unfair, but she needed Fraser to stop thinking about helping her on this case. The more involved he got, the more danger he would be in, and she couldn't risk that. No, it was better he didn't know.

"I'm tired, Fraser, and so are you. I suggest we both get some rest."

"Yes ma'am." His comment made her raise her head to look up at him. His tone had taken on an edge of mocking sarcasm, and it was an edge Meg was not used to hearing. In fact, she could not think of a single other time that she had heard any type of derogatory tone in his voice.

"I'm sorry, but I promise you it's better this way."

She received no reply, except for a curt "Goodnight, ma'am," as he walked out of the living area and back into the bedroom.

Meg sank down onto the sofa, pulling the blanket tightly around her, though she was sure the cold she felt was not from the lack of warmth within the cabin.

------

The morning broke bright and clear. Sun streamed in through the windows, throwing light on the scene inside of the cabin. Meg was sat in her familiar place on the sofa, though she was now dressed and sipping coffee.

As Fraser emerged, he took in the appearance of the woman across from him. Her brown eyes, rimmed with dark circles, contained a distant look that he was struggling to place. She seemed troubled, though her eyes contained more then just the concerned look he was used to seeing when she was worried about a case. Instead, she looked almost haunted, as though she was waiting for the sky to fall down around her.

"Did you sleep?"

She was about to reply when she looked up. Her eyes met his and she knew that, if she lied, he would know.

"A bit."

He nodded, understanding.

"I need to apologise for last night."

Fraser cut her off. "There's no need, ma'am, I understand."

"It's Meg, Fraser. And I didn't mean what I said. I do trust you, more than I think you realise. It's just that I don't think you realise how much danger getting involved with this can put you and everyone you care about in. It's more than your simple solve and arrest case, Fraser."

"I realise that, but I want to help, in any way that I can."

"Even if that means putting your friends in danger, including Detective Vecchio and his family?" Meg stood up to face him, knowing her next question was harsh, but it had to be. "Do you honestly think you have the right to make that decision?"

Fraser refused to give in to her pressure. "What about you?" he asked, not looking away. "You have a responsibility to protect the people of Canada and yet you're running from criminals."

"Perhaps more people are being protected by me disappearing, than would be if I stayed. Did you think of that?"

"Running away is never the answer," he retorted. She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, make her angry enough so that she would tell him her reasons behind leaving, but it wasn't going to work, not this time, there was too much at stake for her to let her anger get the better of her.

"Don't be so naive, Fraser. Sometimes running away is exactly the answer." She made to move past him, but Fraser reached out to hold on to her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Her eyes flashed warningly at him as she turned on him. "Let go." The voice that issued the command was as cold as ice.

"I want to know what's going on." Fraser's voice was equally as commanding, though not as cold. It was a voice Meg had never heard him use before and she had to admit, it scared her just a little. Determined not to let him intimidate her, she stood her ground.

"It's none of your business. Now let me go." Meg felt the pressure on her arm increase slightly and she realised that this was possibly the first time she has seen her second in command truly angry. The look in his eyes was starting to scare her, as she suddenly realised that she was out of her depth. She was in his territory now, a place where he was used to being in control. A split second later though, the pressure was gone, and Meg was able to brush past him and out of the door.

------

Outside, letting the cold air numb the feelings he had stirred within her, Meg began to walk. She had no idea where she was going, she just knew she had to get away from the cabin, away from the intensity she had seen in Fraser's eyes.

She walked until she could no longer see the cabin and she was sure not even Fraser's sharp eyes could follow her movements. Finding a small cluster of rocks, she sank down onto one of the smoother ones. Staring out across the endless snow, the scene in the cabin played out relentlessly in her head.

He was angry, that much she knew, but she didn't understand why. Yes, she understood Fraser's stubbornness when it came to helping people, but that was way beyond anything she had ever witnessed before. It was as though he was absolutely determined to help her, and was refusing point blank to listen to any reason why he was better off out of it.

A small voice inside her head raised the question she had been trying so desperately to ignore since his appearance. Why was this so important to him? Why was he so determined to help solve this case?

I don't want to think about this, she thought, but it was too late. She has allowed the thoughts to start, and now the wave would not be stopped. Everything that had happened in the last few years came flooding into her head, leaving her overwhelmed. She could remember everything, from their first meeting, to the times when their eyes would meet for just a little bit longer than was necessary or proper, to the kiss on the train.

She jolted then, remembering the circumstances around that kiss. She had thought he was dead, knocked from the train by her stupid mistake. As she had watched him fall, her body had felt numb. She couldn't seem to comprehend what had happened. Everything was confused. Her brain was telling her he was dead, but her heart refused to believe it. And then he'd reappeared out of nowhere.

"Oh God," Meg breathed, bringing her hands up to run through her hair. As much as she had tried to forget, it seemed that every single detail of that time had engrained itself on her memory. The way he had looked at her when she had told him she had grieved for him, his head slightly tilted to the side, eyes staring penetratingly into hers, before he had uttered _that_ complement for the first time. Three little words, 'red suits you', and he had her floored.

How can you let one man have so much control over you, Meg? You really are pathetic. But it made no difference, no matter how often she told herself that. She would be able to pretend that she was over it, pretend that his presence had no impact on her, but then something small and stupid would trigger the memory of what had happened next. She still didn't understand how the argument on the roof of the train had changed track so suddenly. One minute she was angry, yelling at him for assuming that she would gladly kill a train load of innocents, and then the next he was standing so close, telling her he was very much aware that she had a heart, one that beats just the same as his. And then his lips had met hers in a kiss so passionate that she thought she would drown. He'd held her so tightly, and in that instant she never wanted him to let go. She'd wanted to feel those strong arms around her forever, his lips pressed against hers, his tongue gently exploring the contours of her mouth. But Sergeant Frobisher had interrupted and the kiss had ended as suddenly as it had started.

Meg exhaled the breath she had not been aware she was holding, feeling her chest shudder slightly as the emotions rolled over her. She wondered if Fraser had felt the way she had on the train, when she thought he was dead. Meg felt her eyes start to prickle, unshed tears threatening to break through her defences and overcome her. Until now, she had refused to let herself think about him, let alone consider how her departure would affect him. But now, after seeing the anger in his eyes, anger that was directed straight at her, she couldn't help but think that perhaps she hadn't been fair to him. If only he had stayed in Chicago, she would not have had to face these feelings. Meg knew she was being selfish, but she was leaving here soon anyway, and thinking about these things was only going to make it harder in the long run.

"Get a grip Meg," she told herself sternly. She looked back the way she had come, across the snow from the cabin. She realised that a part of her did not want to go back there, knowing that when she did he would be there, his clear blue eyes watching her, trying to figure out what she was hiding from him. But the other half of her desperately wanted to return, to walk into the cabin and have him hold her while she told him every horrible little thing that had been going on in the last couple of months. But she knew that could never happen. Any day now she was going to have to leave the relative safety of his home and get on a plane, saying goodbye to the country she loved, and the man she so desperately wanted to stay with.

She hated him for coming here, making it so much harder on her. Meg felt the anger welling up inside of her. This was all his fault anyway. If he hadn't been so damn nice all of the time, she wouldn't have cared what happened to him. There would have been no need for any of this. He could hate her and blame her as much as he wanted, but part of this was his fault, and he should take responsibility for it.

Standing up from the rock, Meg strode back across the snow. Storming up the stairs, she pushed open the door forcibly, letting it bang back against the wall. Standing in the doorway, Meg eyes met Fraser's across the room. There was a wariness in his expression which told her that he was prepared for her wrath.

------

Watching her stand framed against the white backdrop of the snow outside, Fraser could sense the anger radiating off of her. He knew he would have to answer for his earlier actions, but he had just wanted her to see how much she meant to him. "I'm sorry…" he began, when it seemed she was not going to.

"Don't." Meg's voice was commanding, broaching no arguments. "I don't care if you're sorry, or if you just wanted to help, or any of that shit. I will not have you blame me for everything that is happening. This is not entirely my fault, and I will not take all the blame here. I have done everything in my power to protect the people I swore to protect, and yet somehow people I care about still end up dead, and nothing I do seems to make any difference. So you know what, Fraser? Yes, I'm leaving. I'm getting on a plane and I'm leaving everyone to get on with their lives. Trust me, they… _you_ are better off not knowing me." When she'd finished, her eyes were blazing. Silence hung heavily in the room, broken only by the occasional whine for Diefenbaker.

Fraser studied her levelly, wondering how he was going to make her see that his life could never be better off without her. He wanted her so much, but he feared telling her the truth now would only drive her further from him. But still, he had to try. "I never blamed you."

Meg snort of derision interrupted him. Fraser met her eyes, taking a deep breath, he continued. "I didn't. I just don't understand why you couldn't tell me what was happening. I could have been a part of it, I could have helped."

Meg looked away sadly. "No, you couldn't. You would only have ended up hurt."

"Why? I don't understand, there was nothing that would have tied me to you, other than us working together at the Consulate, and that tie is there anyway."

Meg regarded him closely, considering how much it was safe to tell him. There was a tie between them, he was right there, but he couldn't possibly understand exactly how dangerous that tie could be.

"After Matt died, I received a package. Inside were photographs of his body." Meg paused slightly, trying to steady here voice, "and there were others too…"

"Meg…"

"Photographs of everyone I knew – where they lived, where they worked, every detail of their lives. I'm not stupid Fraser, I got the message, and that's why I left. It had to look like I was dead, anything else and these people would have gone after everybody close to me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise." Fraser's voice was soft, the guilt of forcing her to reveal something that was obviously very painful for her was now weighing heavily on him. He should never have pushed her so far.

"It's not your fault, Fraser. Perhaps there was something else I could have done, but there wasn't enough time, I had to make a decision, regardless of whether or not it was the right one."

Fraser watched Meg's eyes drop to the floor, heavy with a mixture of emotions he was unable to identify in the pool of rich ebony.

"You did the right thing."

"Yes, well you're still alive, so I guess it hasn't completely backfired." Too late Meg realised what she had said. Fraser looked both stunned and confused.

"I was included in the package?"

Meg nodded silently.

"But why? I, we…"

"I guess they thought I would do my best to protect the image of the RCMP. Having another member of the force murdered would not look good. How can we protect the citizens of Canada if we can't protect one of our own?" Meg couldn't look him in the eye. She just hoped that he would accept her explanation and leave it at that.

Fraser cocked his head to one side, studying her. There was more to it than simply protecting the RCMP image, that he was sure of. But what else, he didn't know.

"Is that the only reason?"

"Fraser…" Her voice carried a tone that was warning him, begging him not to pursue this.

"Please, I need to know."

"What's done is done, it's not important." She turned towards the kitchen, looking for something to occupy her, to take her away from this conversation.

"It is to me. If you gave up everything to protect me, I want to know." His voice was demanding again. Meg didn't understand why he was being so adamant about this. It wasn't as though they had been together when he left, hell, they hadn't ever been together.

"You weren't the only one on the list, Fraser. I did what I did to protect everyone, not just you."

He was silent for a long while then, simply sitting on the sofa, staring into the fire. Meg remained stood in the kitchen, though she found she was unable to do anything but watch him. He deserved the truth, but it was more than she could give him right now. Meg looked away. He deserved more than her. He deserved someone who would make him happy, someone who could look after him and let him look after them, but that wasn't her. Meg sighed, she was too used to looking after herself. Start relying on other people and you get hurt. She'd learnt that lesson a long time ago, but it didn't make it any easier, especially when she was faced with a man so honest and good that he made her want to trust him with her heart.

"When they told me you were dead, I didn't want to believe it." His voice broke her from her reverie. It sounded distant, like he was much further than just across the room. "I couldn't believe it, because that would mean that I'd been a coward, again."

"How could my death make you a coward Fraser?" Meg asked, thinking she had never met a person less likely to show cowardice than Benton Fraser.

"Because I was too scared to defy orders, to cowardly to tell you how I felt, and because of that, I'd just lost the only person I…" Fraser trailed off, knowing he had already said too much, but he just couldn't seem to stop himself. The rollercoaster of emotions he had felt since leaving Chicago was taking its toll, he felt raw and he knew if he didn't tell her now, she would leave and he really would have lost her for good.

"I'm sorry," Meg moved towards him, kneeling down in front of the sofa, her brown eyes searching his blue ones. "I never meant to hurt you. I just thought if I stayed, you'd get hurt, and I'd never be able to forgive myself for that. I'm so sorry."


	5. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Everything Due South belongs to Alliance, not me (unfortunately)._

_A/N: Things get a little steamier in this chapter, so if you don't like that type of thing, skip to the next chapter. _

------------

Fraser's hand came up to her face, his fingers brushing her cheeks so softly. Meg melted into his touch, her eyes closing briefly at the feeling he evoked in her. Her heart had almost broken as he'd sat there, as good as telling her he loved her. She'd never meant to hurt him, but Ottawa frowned upon relationships between officers. A bitter voice inside her head came forth, asking exactly where following Ottawa's rules had got her – running for her life and the lives of everyone she cared about. Well, she wasn't RCMP now, she wasn't his boss, she wasn't anything really. What would it matter? But she was leaving and doing this would only end up hurting him more.

"I have to go, Fraser."

"Shhh," he breathed softly, his cheek coming to rest against her own. He inhaled the sweet smell of her hair, and that scent that was so uniquely hers. "It doesn't matter, not now."

Meg felt her hands move of their own accord, reaching up to hold on to him as his lips began to caress her cheek, moving ever closer towards her mouth. Meg's fingers tangled in the hair on the back of his head as his lips finally found their goal, meeting hers in a kiss so passionate Meg could concentrate on nothing else. Every thought was driven from her mind as she gave into him totally. His hands moved to pull her closer into his body, his tongue seeking entry to her mouth, gliding across her white teeth, exploring every contour. Meg's other hand slid around his back, her fingers digging into the material of his shirt. Her head was swimming and as much as she wanted to remain kissing him forever, the need for oxygen was taking over. At that moment Fraser released her, his hands dropping down to the base of her sweater. She was so busy trying to remember how to breathe, she couldn't think to do anything but react, raising her arms as he slid her top off over her head. The sweater was discarded carelessly as his hand cupped her face drawing her back into his kiss.

Meg had no time to think about how fast this was moving. Fraser was in charge now and all she could do was react. His hand was now gliding across her bare skin, leaving heat-charged flesh wherever it went. A moan escaped her as his hand cupped her breast, massaging her through the fabric of the bra. At that moment Fraser pushed himself off the sofa, gently lowering her back onto the thick rug that lay in front of the fireplace.

------

Later, when both their breathing returned to something resembling normal, Meg felt herself finally taking stock of exactly what had just happened. She found herself lying on the floor, the weight of her ex-junior officer lying atop of her. His head raised slightly from beside her, as his lips began to caress her neck. He slid gently from where he had remained inside of her, shifting his body to lie beside her, his arms pulling her close.

Meg's eyes opened as she shifted, propping herself up slightly to look at him. His steady gaze met hers, and he smiled shyly at her. Meg offered him a small smile in return, but he could tell that there was something more going on behind her eyes.

"Meg? What's wrong?" He hand came up to stroke her cheek gently. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No." She was quick to reassure him. "No, everything was great. You were wonderful."

"But..?"

"But it doesn't change anything, Ben. I still have to go, even now – especially now – I can't risk you getting hurt because of me."

The expression on his face changed. "Did you consider the fact that I'd get hurt anyway, if you leave."

"I'm not going to have this argument with you again. What's done is done, I have no choice now. What do you think would happen if I just showed up alive, huh, after supposedly being killed in that car bomb?"

"We could explain, it would be alright."

Meg pushed herself up away from him, pulling on her clothes. "No it wouldn't, Fraser, because I'd be right back to square one, with everyone in danger and no evidence to put these people away with."

"So that's that then. You're going to ignore what just happened and leave anyway?"

"Fraser, I…" Meg started to apologise, to try to make him see that this was not what she wanted but what had to happen, but Fraser didn't want to hear.

"That's fine, you've made your feelings perfectly clear. If you'll excuse me." And with that, Fraser pulled on the last of his clothing and walked swiftly out of the cabin, leaving Meg inside, half naked and feeling wretched and alone.

-----


	6. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Due South and all its characters belong to Alliance. I make no money from any of this._

_A/N: This is the last part of what I guess could be called 'The Cabin Scenes'. There is more to come in the story though,so stay tuned. _

-----------

Outside, Fraser allowed the cold to numb the fire burning inside of him. So many unfamiliar emotions coursed through his body – anger, pain, hate, want – that he found it hard to think. How could she do this to him, again? He guessed he should have been prepared this time, he should have known that this was how she would react. Get even the slightest bit close to the person inside and she would push him away, harder and faster than ever before. But this was different, this was not some measly kiss on a train. That, he could attribute to the stress of the situation, she thought it was a mistake and he had accepted that, almost. But this time, there had been no train, no unconscious Mounties, no terrorists or nuclear threats to deal with. No, this time it had simply been them, together like he had wanted so much before. And yet she still pushed him away, turned around and said "thanks, but now I'm leaving." His face burned with the shame of being used again, whilst his heart twisted with the pain that she had inflicted with that single sentence: "I still have to go."

The anger boiled through him again. If she wanted to go, that was fine. In fact, he would help her pack. The sooner she was out of his life, the better. He needed to get over her, the way he had gotten over Victoria. The thought of her name only succeeded in raising more painful memories. Why did he let them do this to him? As soon as he thought he had found someone to love, someone who might just love him back, they'd push him to the ground and kick dirt in his face. He should never have left his home, at least out here the solitude was chosen. It had never before felt so forced upon him as it did at this moment. He wanted to walk into that cabin and demand that she reconsider, make her see that they could get through this, but inside he knew that that would only drive her further away. Fraser sank down to the ground, his head in his hands, trying desperately to fight the tears that were now burning the backs of his eyes.

------

Meg was sat on the couch, in a very similar position to the man outside. Her head was buried in her arms as she fought to control the sobs that threatened to overcome her. She could taste the salt tears that ran gently down her cheeks, as the look in his eyes just before he had left haunted her thoughts. She'd never before seen a look so raw painted so clearly on his face. The pain and anger so evident in his eyes had frozen her to the spot as the door had slammed behind him. Every ounce of trust that she had only moments before witnessed had gone, to be replaced with a look so filled with hate that it had transformed his face completely. The naïve innocence had gone, leaving in its place a person who had been betrayed too many times to simply allow the hurt to roll off his back once again. Every hurt that she had ever inflicted on him came screaming back at her, filling her head until she could take it no more. Pushing her hands against her ears, desperately trying to block out the sounds of the voices reminding her of every horrible thing she had ever done to him, Meg closed her eyes, as the tears dripped down her face once more with renewed energy.

------

Back outside, Fraser sat staring across the snow at the landscape. Diefenbaker had slipped out of the cabin and now lay with his head in his companion's lap, enjoying the absent-minded way Fraser was scratching him behind the ears. Fraser's mind was drifting, remembering the moment he had first walked into his new Superior's office, only to be told he was fired. This was followed by a more mutual understanding, and what he had thought was a change in feelings between them, leading eventually to those incidents on the train and inside the cabin.

Deciding that he could not simply avoid her for the rest of her stay, Fraser made up his mind that, as confrontation was obviously not going to work, he would have to try a different tact. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, ignoring the whine from Diefenbaker who had been disturbed from a peaceful slumber, and turned to re-enter the cabin.

Moving toward the entrance, Fraser paused, hearing her voice float through the open window.

"Yes, he's still here…No, I told him everything…Mike please, I trust him, but I think it's time I left, it's not fair to stay here. I thought the plans would be finalised by now." The reply was inaudible, even to Fraser's keen ears.

"I'm not being impatient." Meg's voice rose a notch. "This isn't exactly easy for me, you know." There was another, longer pause as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. "I just thought it would be over by now…I know Mike, I'm sorry…OK, I will. Goodbye."

The silence that followed was permeated only with the sound on Meg's slight movements within the cabin, undoubtedly packing up the satellite phone, Fraser thought. His head dropped and he leant back against the outside wall of the cabin. She trusted him, she'd said as much, but she was now desperate to get out of the country, to run to wherever it was she was going. Fraser felt his heart contract at the thought. If she still trusted him, then maybe it was not all ruined. But did he trust her, a small voice inside his head asked. Could he afford to risk his heart to her again, knowing she would more than likely push him away? Could he afford not to, knowing she would leave and he would never see her again? The questions swirled around his brain, confusing his thoughts further. All he knew was he had to tell her how he felt, if there was any chance she would stay, he needed her to know.

Walking in through the front door, Fraser found Meg sat back on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest, her eyes lost in the flickering of the fire.

"Meg." Fraser's voice was soft, as though he was afraid to disturb her. After a few moments, the sound of his voice made its way into the depths of her brain, and she turned her head to face him. Fraser was shocked to see the redness of her eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks.

"Ben," she whispered, her eyes opening wide at the sight of him standing there. "I'm sorry, please don't be angry."

At the sound of her soft voice and the pain evident in her tone, any remnant of anger fled from his body. He moved towards her, kneeling down in front of the sofa, his hands reaching up to brush away the tears from her cheeks.

"I'm not angry."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…" Meg began, but Fraser cut her off.

"It doesn't matter, I understand."

Meg's eyes searched his face, looking for answers to the questions she could never ask him out loud. Not finding what she was looking for, Meg turned back towards the fire, letting the rhythmic flickering of the flames calm the confusion she felt inside.

Fraser sensed the change in her body, the resigned calm replacing the desperate anguish that he had walked in to find. He moved to a position on the sofa next to her, facing the fire also.

------

"When are you leaving?" The subject was broached softly. A part of him did not want to know, wanted to go on pretending that they could stay in their own little world forever, but the practical part of him told him that the phone call she had just made had pushed everything along that little bit faster.

"The documents are ready, so it just the transport details left."

"You don't have to go."

"Fraser…" her voice held a warning, telling him not to keep going over this.

"No, please hear me out. There's no reason why you can't stay here. At least until we collect some information, get some evidence to keep you safe."

"Except that there is no evidence, Fraser. I've tried, Matt tried, and look where that got us. He's dead and I'm running for my life, so I'm sorry but no, it's not worth the risk."

Fraser was silent for a long while after that. Every scenario he came up with to keep her safe required her to stay, which he now knew she was not going to do, not for anything or anyone. Well, if she wouldn't stay with him…

"Let me come with you." He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He hadn't even meant to think it. Her head snapped round to look at him.

"What?"

"Let me come with you." His voice was more sure now. "If you won't stay, then I want to go too."

"Fraser, I can't ask that of you."

"You haven't." Meg's eyes turned away. What he was offering was too much. He had too much here: friends, a home, everything she didn't. He would never be happy running away, he'd proven that enough times already today. The slight glimmer of hope that had risen inside of her at his words promptly flickered and died, as the practicalities of what he was suggesting overcame her want.

"It's not practical. It wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"What about your friends, what do you think they would do if you just disappeared? And the RCMP, do you think you could just leave? What about all the people who need your help here? And that's not even thinking about things like a passport, documentation to get you in and out of the country. Think about it Fraser. You disappear within weeks of my death, who do you think is suddenly going to be investigated, huh? You. You and everyone close to you, and suddenly all you've succeeded in doing is placing the search firmly on yourself. It would only make things worse, not better."

Fraser knew she was right, deep down, but that didn't stop him wanting to go with her. "If I just had a little time. I could tell Ray I had decided to stay here, take leave from the RCMP. I can't see Ottawa minding if I didn't come back."

"No, Fraser. As good an idea as this may seem to you right now, what happens in a couple of months, when you are tired of looking over your shoulder? Tired of living your life as someone else? This is no holiday, it's not something you can return from when you've had enough, and trust me, Fraser, there will come a point when you have had enough."

"What happens when you've had enough? Do you get to come back, or do you start again somewhere else."

"We're not talking about me, Fraser. We're talking about you giving up everything and never getting it back. Do you really think you could do that and guarantee that you won't ever resent me for it? Because I don't think anyone could do that, not even you." Meg's voice was heavy with regret. The image of running away with him, of spending the long lonely nights in a place foreign to her, cuddled up in his arms, had felt so real. Meg pictured herself reaching out for the dream, only to have it shatter at her touch.

"I love you."

"Ben…"

"You should know that, even if you leave, I won't stop loving you. And if you tell me that you'll come back, I'll wait for you."

Meg paused before answering. There was nothing she would rather do than tell him to wait, to have the knowledge that, at some point, she could come back to him, and he would still love her. But that was even more unfair on him than leaving in the first place. She took a deep breath.

"I'm not coming back, Fraser."

Her words fell like lead in his heart. His head dropped and he stared at the floor, willing her words to change, to hold some hope. At that point, he was startled to hear the telephone ring. Meg reached over to grab the handset where it lay in its case.

"Mike, hi…Yes, I'm ready…OK, I can do that. It will take me a couple of hours to reach the post, but I should be there by dark…No, I don't anticipate any problems there…Yes, I understand… And Mike, thank you."

As she hung up the phone, she looked across at Fraser. He was still staring at the floor, his gaze distant and lost.

"Fraser…"

"You're going now?"

"Yeah, there's a pilot not too far away who's agreed to take me, no questions asked."

"So that's it."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go, now."

"Where?"

Meg paused. She had known he would ask her, and had already decided that it would be easier on him not to know. Plus, there was no guarantee where she started off was where she would stay, in fact, it would be more sensible to move on a quickly as possible, at least at the start.

"I can't tell you that, Fraser. I really am sorry." When he didn't reply, Meg moved to where her bag was already mainly packed. Picking up the few possessions that had been removed from the pack, she quickly stored them in her single piece of luggage. Slipping into her boots, she looked towards the man still sitting on the sofa. He hadn't moved all the time she had been packing.

"Fraser." Her voice spurred him into action. He leaped up and, grabbing his coat, he turned towards her. She knew what he was thinking, but she knew that,if he came, she would not want to get on that plane. Their eyes met, and he could see her thoughts written plainly on her face. Moving towards her, he captured her hand in his.

"Please." He tried to gather her in towards him, but she pulled away.

"I can't do it, Fraser. Please don't make me." Her eyes welled with tears, as his pleaded with her to stay, to let him go too, anything but this.

She made to move towards the door, but Fraser stopped her at the last moment, pulling her towards him, pressing his lips against hers. She returned the kiss that was so full of the passion, the heartache, the total sense of loss they were both feeling, until she could no longer bare it. Pulling away gently, she let her hand travel softly down his cheek, before finally turning away and walking through the door.

Fraser watched her leave, feeling as though his heart had left with her. He sank down onto the floor where he was standing, letting the tears that he had worked so hard to keep in finally fall.

------

_A/N: Hands up all those who thought Meg wouldn't leave. Oh well, I guess you will just have to keep reading to find out if she comes back. (Yep, I'm evil and I know it!). _


	7. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Still not mine._

_A/N: See, I said there would be more - and we are back in Chicago as well. Will Ben manage to figure it all out and, if he does, how long will it take him? If you are reading this, then I hope you are enjoying the story so far :-)_

_----------_

_18 Months Later_

"Hey Benny," Ray Vecchio entered the office where his best friend was sat, diligently filling out paperwork.

"Hello Ray. How are you?"

"I'm good Benny, you up for lunch?"

Fraser put down the pen. "Well, technically Ray, I'm seated, but I should I stand up, I could well be 'up for lunch' as you say."

Ray sighed, Benton Fraser really was the most exasperating person he had ever known.

"Alright, let's go then."

Fraser grabbed his hat as he left the Consulate with Ray, walking towards the Buick Riviera that was illegally parked out front. They drove to a local diner, which was popular, but no too over-crowded at lunch times.

"Ray, I was wondering if you managed to get that information I asked about?"

"Sure thing Benny, but you wanna tell me what this is about? You Canucks got something going on? Not planning an invasion are you?" Ray joked.

"No Ray." Fraser's tone took on a hint of something Ray couldn't place, but he knew the only other times he had heard that in his friend's voice.

"This isn't about Thatcher again, is it?" When Fraser refused to answer, Ray knew he had his answer.

"Come on Benny. The RCMP closed the case on that. I'm sorry she died, I really am, but this obsession is not healthy."

"Thank you for your concern, Ray, but I am an adult and I can look after myself. I'll understand if you could not get the information I requested."

"I didn't say I didn't get it Benny, I was just wondering why you wanted it."

"It's not important, Ray."

Ray looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Every time he asked about her, Fraser would get defensive, claim it was nothing, and Ray could not get anything out of him for the rest of the meal.

"OK, I'll drop it, for now, but you need to move on Benny. She's dead and she's not coming back."

"I know." Fraser looked down to his lunch, knowing Ray was right, maybe not about her being dead, but certainly about her not coming back.

Any further talk during the meal was directed firmly at small talk – how the Bulls were playing this season, the cases Ray was working on at the moment, the weather – anything but Meg Thatcher.

When Ray had dropped him back at the Consulate, Fraser made his way into his office. Closing the door firmly behind him, he pulled out the file that Ray had given him. It contained information on one Marcus Richards, Jenna's father, and his business dealings around the time of her death. As much as he did not want to involve Ray in this, Fraser knew if he started digging around in the case too much, he would only put himself at the focus of anyone who was still watching. From what Meg had told him, he knew they were not worried about killing anyone they thought might be getting too close to them. All he had to figure out now was who 'they' were.

He'd made sure Ray had used a contact, nothing official that could be traced back to him or the department. The information was good too, it contained details a company named 'Maxwell Developments'. Fraser had managed to acquire details of all of Marcus's business associates and dealings for a significant time before and after his daughter's death. Meg had said Jenna had come across the information whilst working for her father, so he was relying on that link to try to connect the dots of this case. One question kept coming back to him though. Why, if they went to so much trouble to silence the daughter, was the father still alive, working for the government no less? Perhaps he had been paid off, but what kind of man would accept money for the life of his child. Fraser shook his head, it made no sense to him.

Whilst going through the original list of associates he had managed to obtain, Fraser had found himself paying particular attention to the time directly after Jenna's death. During the weeks following the funeral, Maxwell Developments was scheduled for meetings almost weekly. Strange for a busy government official who had just lost his daughter. It was then that Fraser had decided to look further into the company. On the surface, the company was simply a developers that had done some work for the government, a couple of new buildings, in particular in Ottawa and Toronto. There was nothing to suggest anything untoward was happening as a part of the development, but still the name kept coming up. Fraser had tried making enquiries himself, but nothing had ever come of them. It was then that he had asked Ray if he knew of anyone in the construction industry who may know a little more about the developers.

Ray had come through for him. The file he had now in front of him contained details of contracts the company had with certain parties, including the Canadian Government. This in itself was not suspicious, but the speed at which the contract had been fulfilled surprised Fraser. Although he was not an expert in construction, Fraser knew enough to know that, according to these documents, the buildings had been completed in record time.

Looking again at the details of the buildings, Fraser's brow creased; he had never heard of any Government buildings at these addresses. Making up his mind, he telephoned Ottawa.

A female voice answered after only a few rings, introducing the main headquarters of the Canadian Government.

"How may I be of assistance?"

"Ah, I was wondering if you could possibly give me a telephone number for the reception at the Stevenson Avenue office."

"Stevenson Avenue, Sir?" The voice on the other end of the line questioned.

"Yes ma'am," confirmed Fraser.

"I'm afraid we do not have any offices on Stevenson Avenue, sir. Is there a particular department you were requiring?"

"Ah, no. That's alright, thank you kindly." Fraser hung up the telephone. So, he was right, there were no buildings where Maxwell Developments had supposedly built them. Fraser was even more confused now. Why would the Government pay a developer for buildings that were never constructed? Unless, the buildings were being used for top-secret business, but that still would not explain the time taken for the construction. Barely two months was recorded for the build time, and that included interior installation as well as the outer envelope.

Fraser jotted down some thoughts in the ever growing file he kept locked in his desk. Placing the file back into its place, Fraser returned to his desk, thankful that work had been light this past week.

------


	8. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Everything Due South belongs to Alliance, but the story itself is mine._

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Fraser woke early. The sun was rising and the day was already promising to be another in a long line during the hot Chicago summer. Fraser once again found himself missing the cold, refreshing air of the Yukon, but he forced his thoughts away from the snow, knowing thoughts of that only brought back the last time he was at the cabin. He hadn't been back since she had left, unable to face the onslaught of memories that would undoubtedly await him upon crossing the threshold.

Dressing in his brown uniform, Fraser prepared for the day ahead. There was a consular event occurring at the weekend and Superintendent Nicholls had assigned the final arrangements to the constable. Fraser was glad of his friendship with Ray, not only for the companionship, but for the opportunity to do real police work as well. Though he loved the RCMP, he had to admit that he found the seemingly endless paperwork generated by the Consulate somewhat tiresome. It was a relief to be able to go out onto the streets of Chicago and feel like he was actually making a difference in somebody's life. To remember why he joined the Force in the first place.

Leaving his apartment, Benton Fraser walked the short distance to the Consulate, enjoying the relative quietness that the early morning brought to the neighbourhood. He was the first to arrive, as was usual, and had just finished disabling the alarm when the morning courier arrived.

"Good Morning, Jimmy," smiled the Mountie. "You're here early this morning."

"Yeah, it's my kid's birthday so I'm trying to finish early today, get home in time for the party. I didn't think you'd mind being the first call."

Fraser smiled again. "Not at all," he said, signing the required documents. "There you go. I hope the party goes well."

"Thanks man, see you soon."

"Goodbye Jimmy." Fraser watched the courier depart before turning his attention back to the just-delivered envelopes. They contained the normal batch of documents from Ottawa, though there was one addressed to him specifically. Puzzled, Fraser unwound the string holding the envelope closed. Drawing out the documents, he saw that it was an invitation to a conference in Toronto on an outreach programme aimed at youths. This only served to increase his puzzlement. Why would Ottawa suggest a member of the Chicago Consular staff attend a conference aimed at those based in Canada? Frowning, Fraser made a mental note to ask the superintendent when he arrived.

------

As Ray arrived at lunchtime, Fraser was overseeing the final addition of decorations to the ballroom.

"Hello Ray."

"Hey Benny, how's it going?" Ray asked, inspecting the array of flowers and ornaments that had transformed the normally plain room into an indoor summer scene.

"Good Ray. The decorations are almost complete and the catering company are not due for another couple of hours."

"Cool, so you got time for lunch?"

"Certainly, although I should not be gone too long, in case the caterers are early." Fraser took one last look around the hall, deciding everything was up to inspection, before following Ray out of the Consulate.

During dinner, Fraser mentioned the invitation he had received.

"Apparently someone in Ottawa had heard of the scheme I helped set up at St. Augusta's Church and thought I might be interested in seeing how the Canadian counterparts are being run. It looks very interesting, Ray."

"I'm sure," Ray's voice held a hint of sarcasm. "Can't see why you wouldn't want to sit in on a load on windbags prattling on about how to change the lives of all those wayward Canucks. Who wouldn't?"

"Ray." Fraser's tone was reproachful. "These programmes really do make a difference."

"I know, I know." Ray held up his hand in mock defence. "I just don't understand why people feel the need to spend hours and hours lecturing others on the details, when they could just be getting on with it themselves."

"It's a mutual sharing of ideas and information, Ray, to stop everyone making the same mistakes and to find out what really makes a scheme like this work."

"OK, Benny, you enjoy you conference, I'm just glad it you and not me."

"Yes Ray." Fraser understood Ray's aversion to sitting and learning, the Italian in him made him more of a get-out-and-do-it kind of person. Fraser, however, was looking forward to it.

------

As the days passed, Fraser had been unable to discover any more about Maxwell Developments. He knew that there were no Government buildings at the sites listed, but he didn't understand why the payments had gone through, or what would be gained from paying a contractor for work which was never completed.

He needed more details on who exactly was part of the deal. Jenna's father's name was definitely on more than one document, but who else would have reason to associate with the developers? The Government files were not something he was going to be able to access without a very good reason, something that, right now, he did not have. Maxwell Developments however, was different. They were a company and, as such, he should be able to trace their ownership and business dealings through channels that would cause no suspicion.

Research brought about a list of names for men that sat of the directors' board. Skimming the list, one name caught Fraser's eye. He was sure he recognised the name, but he couldn't quite place it. Perhaps it was from one of the meetings Richards had scheduled. Searching through his file, Fraser could find no mention of an 'Edward Simmons' in anything relating to Maxwell Developments.

His brow creased in frustration. He knew he had seen that name somewhere, now if he could only figure out where. Sighing, he began to aimlessly skim through the file again, looking for something to tie Simmons to Richards. Suddenly he saw it. The name jumped out at him from the page he had been thumbing past. Stopping, moving back to the page, Fraser saw the reason he had not found the name immediately. The page he was on had nothing to do with Maxwell Developments. It was a copy of Governmental funeral attendees. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Edward Simmons was a Government official, but he was also on the board for Maxwell.

If the project was never actually carried out, then there would have been no workers to pay and no plant to hire, and if the company had been paid regardless of that, then there was a 100 profit on the investment – a profit that would have gone straight into the pockets of the various board members.

Fraser grabbed the list, comparing the names of the directors with those of any Government officials he could find. He found two other matches. That meant at least three people were in on the scam, if not more. The only question now was what to do with this information. Did he really have enough evidence to go to Ottawa with? Or would he simply be risking jeopardising the cover Meg had so carefully constructed?

Fraser sighed, leaning back in his chair. What was he going to do? He had worked so hard to solve this case for her, to bring her home, but when it came to it, he knew that these were powerful people. He risked losing everything if he moved too fast, but by the same token, if he moved too slowly and they got wind of his investigation, then he had no doubt that any evidence would be swiftly destroyed, leaving him in a worse position than he had started in, with no hope of ever ending this.

Closing his eyes, he thought again about her; her eyes, her lips, her passion, everything that made her who she was, and found himself missing her more than ever, knowing he was so close and yet so far.

------

The days passed quickly and yet Fraser found no further evidence of the corruption that had destroyed the lives of so many. The conference in Toronto was upon him, and Fraser had made up his mind to use the resources there in an attempt to get further into the Government dealings. It would be harder to trace back to him, coming from Toronto as opposed to Chicago.

Stepping off the plane, Fraser hailed a taxi to take him from the airport to the hotel in which the conference was being held. The RCMP was putting up all of the attendees in suites within the hotel and had booked the seminar room for the two days the conference was scheduled for.

As he signed in and collected his key, Fraser relished the feeling of being home. It wasn't that he disliked Chicago, it was just nice to be back in Canada, with his own people.

Entering the hotel room, Fraser placed his pack on the bed, taking in his surroundings. The room was standard for a hotel, with a balcony that looked out across the city. Fraser picked up the itinerary for the conference, noting that the first speaker was on in a little under two hours. Deciding to take a walk before the conference started, Fraser left his room and headed out into the sunshine of the Toronto summer.

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	9. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Due South and all its characters belong to Alliance. The story andoriginal content, however, is mine. _

_A/N: So, do you think Fraser is going to listen to Ray? Is he going to give up trying to find Meg? I wonder..._

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The first speaker had been very good. She was involved with many schemes around the city that mainly worked on giving youths someplace to go when they were not in school. They were working towards increasing the equipment for sports and other activities, through fundraising and grants, and wished to increase the number of centres in and around the city.

As Fraser made his way back to his room, he skimmed through the notes he had diligently been writing throughout the lecture. There were many good ideas here that could be easily transferred to a Chicago setting. Entering his room, he was so caught up in the details of the schemes that he did not notice the man sitting in the chair by the window until he spoke.

"Constable Fraser." It was more of a statement than a question. Fraser looked up, his eyes taking in a well dressed man in his late forties, whose eyes were friendly but rimmed with lines of worry.

"Please forgive the intrusion, but I needed to speak with you privately."

"I'm sorry sir, speak with me? Why?" Fraser was confused.

"Let me introduce myself." The older man stood up and proffered his hand, which Fraser took somewhat warily. "My name's Michael Williams, I work for the RCMP in Ottawa. I've recently become aware of a situation that has required me to act somewhat clandestinely. I hope you'll forgive me for dragging you up here, but I had to meet with you without causing any awkward questions."

"Awkward questions, sir?"

"Yes, please take a seat, this may take a while." Williams re-seated himself in the chair and Fraser followed suit, seating himself opposite the older man.

"Um, Mr. Williams…" began Fraser, but he was quickly interrupted.

"Please, call me Mike."

"Mike, um, I'm afraid I do not understand, a situation involving me?"

"Yes, Constable. You and a certain other person, to whom it remains imperative that her," he paused, searching for the right words, "'situation', shall we say, remains confidential.

"I've been keeping an eye on you lately, and I am concerned that you may be digging too deeply into the circumstances surrounding the death of one Jenna Richards. This is not something that is in the best interests of yourself or…" He trailed off there, but Fraser had understood. He had placed the name 'Mike' as soon as the gentleman had began talking about the case.

"Meg." Fraser looked down. He had not expected to hear about her from someone else, especially not on this trip. "Have you spoken to her? Is she alright?" A million questions formed instantly in his head. Please God, let her be alright.

"As far as I'm aware, she's fine. But that doesn't mean we want anyone digging around in the past, bringing up things that are best left alone, if you understand my meaning."

"I do, sir, but I believe I have a lead, something that may solve this entire case." And let her come home, he added silently. "A developers named Maxwell have many Government officials on their board. They did some work for the Government around the time of Jenna's death, and though they were paid, as far as I can tell, the actual construction was never completed. The money for the project would have gone straight back to the politicians."

"Constable, I appreciate that you are trying to help, but all this stuff about Maxwell, don't you think if there was evidence we would have found it? Didn't it occur to you that we've gone through the records, there's just no evidence to link Richards to Maxwell. The fact of the matter is, there is no evidence great enough that we are going to get a conviction for a Government official. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."

"But, sir, if I could just…"

"No, Constable." Mike's voice was firm. "Drop the case, forget about it and move on."

Fraser was silent, a thousand protests forming in his brain. The older man looked down at the Constable, knowing exactly what the determined look that was forming in his eyes meant, having seen it enough times in a certain other Mountie he knew. Sighing, he sat down again.

"Look, Constable, I really am sorry, but you were never meant to find her in the cabin. It was my stupid idea to send her up there. I knew your father had a cabin in the Yukon and I just thought, if we could hide her for a bit before getting her out of the country, then it would be a great deal safer for her and for everyone else, yourself included. You were never meant to know she was even alive."

"I just want to help."

"I know you do Constable, but in this, I'm afraid the best thing to do is just let it be. I can't afford to have her worrying about you, if it causes her to slip up. Right now, the most important thing is that she worries about herself, no-one else."

"I understand."

"Good. Now," Mike got to his feet, turning to shake the hand of the younger man, "Enjoy the rest of the conference, you really are doing good work down there in Chicago."

"Thank you, sir." Fraser watched as his visitor left the room, slipping quickly from view, before sinking back down onto the bed. The despair settled over him like a heavy cloud. He had been so sure that he was close to solving this, to bringing her home. But all his hopes had been shattered with that one short visit. The emptiness he had felt in that exact moment she had walked out of the cabin now resurfaced, haunting him. Up until this point he had managed to stave off the feelings, burying himself in his work and the quest to solve the case, but now nothing could hold them back. Closing his eyes, he let the feelings of despair wash over him like a cold shower.

"Oh God," he whispered suddenly, his eyes flying open. Sitting bolt upright on the bed, Fraser heard Mike's words echoing in his head.

There's just no evidence to link Richards to Maxwell.

Link Richards to Maxwell. He hadn't concentrated enough on Richards. Fraser shook his head. _Why_ hadn't he concentrated on Richards? He'd let himself be blinded by the fact that it had been his daughter that had died, but what if that was simply an unfortunate side effect in a deal that was going to make him millions? Fraser didn't want to believe what he was thinking. Surely a man wouldn't sacrifice his own daughter for money? But everything was starting to make sense. Richards' name wasn't on the list of board members, but he was the one who set up the meetings, set up the deal between Maxwell and the Government. A million dollar contract that never got built and all those in the Government who may have been in a position to question it suddenly ended up on the board of directors. If they were not in on it, they could easily have been blackmailed into keeping quiet, simply by the threat of incriminating themselves in the process of turning in others.

Everything had suddenly slipped into place in Fraser's mind. Meg had said Jenna was working for her father when she discovered the evidence, but no-one knew where she had hidden the evidence. Fraser wondered if there had even been any in the first place. Would she have kept evidence on her father, even if she knew he was doing something wrong? Fraser remembered the feeling he had had when Gerrard had given him the account book, detailing his father's supposed wrong-doings, the feeling of wanting to burn it, burn anything that might damage his memories of his father. But would Jenna have acted the same? Would she have known her father would sacrifice her for the money? Surely no-one could think that of their own parents. But if she had, maybe Meg was right and there was evidence somewhere. But the question remained as to where?

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	10. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Due South is still not mine, more's the pity._

_A/N: I hope someone out there is enjoying this :-) _

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Walking along the lakefront in the warm evening, Fraser's mind was still occupied with the thoughts of the afternoon. Throughout the second lecture he had been distracted, trying to solve the final parts of the puzzle that he had not yet fitted into place. Meg had thought Jenna had evidence, and Fraser trusted her judgement, but did she know about Jenna's father's involvement? He knew there were things she had kept back from him, but was this one of them? If it was, then the chances were there was evidence somewhere, he just didn't know where.

Jenna had been in Toronto at the time of her meeting with Meg, therefore she had obviously left Ottawa before her father and his associates had been able to do anything about it. That suggested she felt safer in Toronto than Ottawa, and therefore, Fraser reasoned, she would have been more likely to bring the evidence with her, than leave it in place she was unfamiliar or uncomfortable with.

With that thought in mind, Fraser decided to look into Jenna's background. People tended to hide things in places they knew, where they were, or had previously been, able to observe the routines of the location. So, where would Jenna feel comfortable? Where had she lived and worked whilst in Toronto?

Making his way back to the hotel, Fraser passed a call box. Moving inside, he dialled the familiar number to Ray's cell phone.

"Vecchio," came the response.

"Ray, it's me."

"Hey Benny, you bored of your conference already? Want me to come pick you up from the airport?" There was laughter in Ray's voice, but Fraser was too wound up to appreciate the humour.

"No Ray, but I need you to do something for me."

"Sure Benny, what's up?"

Fraser related the information he required to his friend, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions. Although he knew Ray would never openly refuse to help him on this, he was aware the detective was tiring of his crusade.

"OK Benny, I'll get it for you, but I want you to listen to me carefully now. I don't want to see you get hurt and if you keep on like this that is exactly what is going to happen. You're getting obsessed with this case and her, and no matter what you do, it is not going to bring her back."

"Ray…" Fraser started to interrupt.

"No, hear me out, Fraser. Solving the case will not bring her back. She's dead and there's nothing you can do about it. It wasn't your fault and no one blames you, OK?"

"Yes Ray." The caring in his friend's voice was overwhelming. He hadn't realised exactly how much this was affecting Ray, he had just thought he was tiring of being asked to search for information. He hadn't realised that Ray was that worried about him.

Thanking him again and giving him the number to his hotel room, Fraser contemplated Ray's words. Maybe he was obsessed, but he couldn't let it go. Not now, when he was so close to bringing her home. Vowing to himself not to ask Ray for anything else, he made his way back to the hotel to await the call that would hopefully bring him one step closer to the woman he loved.

------

Walking into the apartment building, Fraser realised straight away he was in the wrong place. There was no security guard, nothing but a pin-coded door to prevent access to strangers. There was hardly likely to be any kind of secure storage here. Taking a quick look round the ground level floor, he was convinced. If Jenna had hidden any documents in this building, it would have been in her own apartment, which had been thoroughly searched at the time of her death.

Looking down at the rest of the list Ray had given him the previous evening on the phone, he scanned the names for something that resembled a large office or building, anything that might have a safe or security deposit boxes. Apparently Jenna had worked for a company in the main business district of Toronto. Checking his watch, Fraser decided he just had time enough to check out the building before the first lecture of the day started.

Upon entering the building, Fraser first thought was that this was a much more likely place for someone to hide evidence. The security men at the reception desk, the cameras which were obviously not just for show and the familiarity working there would give, everything suggested that this would be a place a young woman would seriously consider using. Making his way towards the reception desk, Fraser took out his ID, hoping that the receptionist would not phone the local RCMP department to check his story.

"Hello. May I help you?" Asked the young lady at the desk.

"Ah, yes ma'am." Flashing his badge, Fraser smiled his most charming smile, "I was wondering if you could possibly provide me with some information."

"Certainly sir, what it is that you are after?" The receptionist was now smiling back at the Constable, batting her eyelids.

"I was wondering if you had any type of safety deposit box here, or maybe a safe, something that the employees would be able to access, where say, valuable items might be held?"

"We have company lockers, sir, if that is the type of thing you mean."

"Lockers? Are these able to be opened only by the employee who has the key?"

"Absolutely. They're completely safe, any member of staff can apply for one, and keep whatever they like there, although lots just choose to store some valuables there when they go on holiday, that type of thing, you know."

"Thank you kindly, you've been most helpful. Could you tell me where these lockers are located, please?"

"Down in the basement. You have to use you swipe card to get through the outer door, where there's security any time the building is open."

Fraser looked across at the door the receptionist had gestured towards. The electronic lock was obvious even from here.

"Um, I was wondering, is there any record of the people who have kept lockers in this building?"

"Of course, but I'm afraid I can't divulge that kind of information. You'll need a warrant for that." She looked apologetically at the Constable.

"Of course ma'am, but the particular information I am after relates to an ex-employee, someone who worked here a couple of years ago, and is now unfortunately deceased. She may have had a locker in which she kept some important documentation pertaining to a case I am currently working on, and it is imperative we have these documents." Fraser looked beseechingly at the woman, hoping she would help him.

"She's dead?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I can only tell you if she had a locker, I can't let you into it."

"Understood, that would be a great help."

"OK, just don't tell my boss."

"Thank you kindly." Fraser watched as the receptionist started typing, supplying the information she asked for at the required time.

"I'm sorry, sir. We have no records that a Jenna Richards had a locker in this building at any time during her tenure with the company."

Fraser's heart sank; he had been so sure that this would be the answer to everything. "Ah, well thank you kindly, I greatly appreciate your help."

"It's been my pleasure." The receptionist smiled as Fraser turned to leave. He had only taken a couple of steps towards the exit when the female voice called him back.

"Oh, Constable!"

Returning to the desk, Fraser looked at the lady questioningly. "Ma'am?"

"I just had a thought. Your lady, she didn't necessarily have to have a locker in this building. I mean, our records only cover this office, but there's nothing to say that she didn't go to one of our other offices and use their facilities. It's unusual, but there's nothing to stop her. As long as she had her company ID, she could use whatever office she liked for storage. The company is on a global system to enable visiting directors to store important documents when they come for meetings."

"Do you have any other offices in this area?" Fraser felt his heart begin to rise again. It was perfect, use your company ID to access lockers of an office no-one would associate you with.

"Absolutely, we have another building just on the other side of the city, over on Upper East Street."

"Thank you kindly ma'am, you don't know how helpful this has been."

"You're welcome."

Fraser walked out of the office, optimism flowing through his veins. This had to be it, it just had to be.

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	11. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Still not mine. Please don't sue._

_A/N: Was Fraser right? Has he finally found what he is searching for? Have a read and find out..._

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Sitting through the lecture was torture. Oh, there was nothing wrong with the speaker. In fact, judging from the reaction of the crowd, he was excellent, it just happened that Fraser hardly heard a word he was saying, so caught up in what could be the end of this whole matter. The only reason he was at the lecture was that he believed it would be rude not to show up for something that was such a good cause, and which Ottawa had paid good money for him to attend. He tried to listen, he really did, but he just couldn't keep his mind on the words.

When the speaker finally finished, Fraser left the conference room quickly, eager to reach his destination. He had to virtually stop himself running down the Toronto streets, so desperate was he to arrive at the office. Entering the building, he could see the similar layout, with the main reception desk in the centre of the large lobby area. Thankfully, this reception was also manned by a woman. He hated to think of manipulating people, but he had found that it was sometimes easier to get what he wanted by smiling nicely and being polite, and that this usually worked best when it was a female on the desk.

Flashing his ID badge at the young lady, Fraser started by repeating his earlier enquiries, leading up to the question he really wanted to ask.

When the presence of secure lockers was confirmed, he brought the conversation around to the issue of accessing the locker of a deceased employee.

"Well, we're not really supposed to open them without the consent of the owner."

"I understand that ma'am, but this particular employee died some time ago, and the contents of that locker may be very important in bringing about the conviction of some very bad people. If I could just have a look inside…"

"Well, I don't know. How do you even know there is a locker?" The receptionist was eying him somewhat suspiciously now.

"Well, we are not one hundred percent sure, but I believe you hold the power to confirm that from your records. In fact, if there is no locker in the name Jenna Richards, then there will be no need for me to trouble you any further."

"Jenna Richards?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright, give me a second."

"Thank you kindly," Fraser replied, as the young lady started typing information into her desktop. After a short time, the results were displayed.

"Well, it looks like you woman did have a locker, opened it a couple of years back, but there's no record of any other activity. No one has collected the contents after her death, if that is what you are interested in."

Fraser nodded. "That's very helpful, ma'am. Um, would it be possible for me to have a look inside the locker?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer. She looked hesitant, as though she was weighing up the trouble she could get into from her boss against the want to help the nice-looking police officer.

"Well, seeing as the occupier is deceased, I can't see what harm it could cause. I'll phone down to security, they have access to the master key that will open your locker. Number D62. The access is through that door over there." She gestured towards the door to the basement. "I'll open it for you." And with that, she clicked one of the many switches on the panel in front of her and picked up the internal telephone. Fraser thanked her once again and headed through the door.

------

Upon entering the basement level, Fraser found a security guard.

"You the Mountie who wants to look in the locker?"

"Yes sir." Fraser nodded.

"Let me see your ID." Retrieving his badge from his pocket, Fraser took in the surroundings. There was a thick steel door directly ahead of him, through which he assumed the lockers were housed.

"OK, come this way, please." Fraser followed the guard through the electronically-operated door and entered the locker room. There were lockers stacked four-up in rows that stretched the length of the room.

"D62 is over there, fourth row from the left, about midway down." The guard handed him a small key before returning to his post.

"Thank you kindly." As Fraser made his way down towards the row the guard had gestured to, he became aware that his heart was pounding. After everything that had happened, it dawned on him that this may finally be the catalyst that could bring this to an end. Holding his breath as he reached the locker, he slid the key gently into the lock and turned. Hearing the clunk of the mechanism deactivating the lock, Fraser gently pulled open the door, almost afraid to look inside for fear of what he might, or might not, find.

Placed on the thick steel bottom of the locker there was a small bundle of files. Fraser gingerly lifted them out, placing them on one of the small tables that were strategically placed between the rows of lockers.

Opening the top file, Fraser's heart almost stopped beating. Inside were a pile of bank statements, detailing the transfers of money from a Maxwell account to one in the name of Marcus Richards. Another file had a copy of the contract the Government had drafted to secure the services of Maxwell Developers. As Fraser skimmed through the contract, he noticed subtle differences between this copy and the copy he had secured whilst in Chicago. There were omissions in his copy, omissions like that which detailed the delay in start time to a time deemed suitable for the Developers. Such a tiny sentence in the small print, but one which made perfect sense in the scheme of the project. Any Government official asking after the build could be deterred by the clause, and yet the money had already been paid.

Gathering up the files, Fraser placed them inside his jacket. Quietly closing the locker door, he returned the key to the security guard, thanking him for his help. Climbing the stairs back up to the lobby, he smiled gratefully to the receptionist, who was now talking quickly on the telephone, and left the building.

Walking down the street towards his hotel, Fraser thought about what he held in his hands. The evidence that was going to bring down the crooked politicians, the evidence that was going to bring Meg home. He couldn't help but smile then.

Re-entering the hotel, he suddenly became aware that he did not know how to contact Mike. Was he still in Toronto? He had said he had come from Ottawa, so he must work there somewhere, but in which department, Fraser did not know. Asking to use the safe, Fraser deposited the documents into the care of the hotel, before returning to his room.

Picking up the telephone, he dialled the number to the RCMP headquarters, asking to be connected to a Michael Williams.

"No, ma'am, I'm sorry but I don't know which department he is in…Yes ma'am, I'll hold. Thank you kindly."

Waiting, listening to a tuneless O Canada play repeatedly through the handset, Fraser thought about what he was going to say when he finally got through to Mike. How was he going to explain that he had disobeyed direct orders and yet solved the case? And how was he going to explain without saying too much over the telephone.

"Hello, Superintendent Williams."

Fraser decided to go with the approach that suggested that the two men had never met one another. "Ah, sir. My name is Constable Benton Fraser. I, um, need to speak to you regarding a matter of some urgency."

"Constable! Right, would it be convenient if we met somewhere? Where are you now?"

"I am in Toronto at the moment, sir, for a conference. I am due to return to Chicago tomorrow, but I could come to Ottawa first if that is convenient to you."

"Ah, yes, I think I could find a slot for you, around midday. That should give you enough time to get a flight up here, should it not?"

"That should be fine, sir." Fraser sighed, relieved. He had been afraid that Mike would refuse to see him, or ignore his presence completely.

"Alright, good. I'll send someone to pick you up at the airport."

"Thank you, sir."

"Well, until tomorrow Constable."

"Goodbye, sir." Hanging up the phone, Fraser suddenly found the prospect of tomorrow daunting. He had tried for so long to get everything together, but what if it wasn't enough? What if Mike refused the evidence? Refused to submit a case against the people who had so obviously caused Jenna's death?

Deciding that he couldn't think about that now, Fraser telephoned the airport, requesting information for a flight to Ottawa for the following morning. He was in luck, there were spaces on the 9.25 am. After giving his booking details to the airport and requesting a wake-up call from the hotel, Fraser tried to settle down, go to sleep. It had been a long day and he wanted to be refreshed and alert during his meeting with Mike the following day, but sleep just refused to come. He tried counting caribou, picturing the wide calming expanses of the Yukon, everything that he could think of to relax his mind and body, but nothing seemed to work. He was too tense, too nervous, thinking about her and the possibility that she might be coming home soon to rest.

Finally a sleep overcame him, though it was a sleep filled with dreams of lost hope and failed efforts. He awoke early the following morning, and decided to take a walk before making his way to the airport. He needed to clear his mind for the day ahead.

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	12. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Due South is the property of Alliance, and no infringements on their rights is intended in any way, shape or form._

_A/N: This one is just a little chapter. Short, but sweet... I hope ;-)_

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As the plane touched down on the Ottawa runway, Fraser found his heart once again racing in his chest. Forcing himself to take some calming breathed before leaving the plane, he made his way towards the concourse. Not wanting to trust the files to airport baggage handlers, he had only the single bag of hand luggage with him where, held securely inside, were the vital documents.

As he reached the arranged meeting place, he was surprised to see Mike himself there to pick him up.

"Sir."

"Constable, let's get out of here shall we. There's a nice little diner not too far from here where we can get lunch." As Fraser followed the older man out of the airport, he kept a firm grip on his bag and an eye out for anything suspicious, though what he would see, he did not know.

At the diner, Fraser explained what he had done after Mike had left him in Toronto. The look of displeasure on the superintendent's face turned to one of amazement when he got to the part about the other office building.

"We knew about the lockers, but we never thought that she would have used a different office. It's so simple."

"Yes, sir, but quite brilliant," he said. "No-one thought to look for the evidence there, as it was not somewhere that could be directly associated to her. I only came upon it by a stroke of luck – a receptionist happened to mention that there was another building in Toronto, and when I went to check it out, no-one had disturbed the contents since her death."

"You have the evidence."

Fraser smiled. "Yes sir, I do."

Mike looked at the smiling Constable sat across from him. It was only in that moment that he realised quite how far this man had gone to bring the woman he loved home. Oh, he had no doubt that the Constable loved her now. He had wondered, from the way Meg spoke about him, if there had been something going on between the two of them before she left, but now he knew. If there hadn't been anything going on then, well, it wasn't from lack of want on both parts. The look in the younger man's eyes told him everything he needed to know about his feelings, even if Mike had not been able to read them clearly from his recent actions.

"OK, let's see what we have, shall we?"

Removing the files from his bag, Fraser laid them carefully on the table in front of him. As Mike looked through the folders, his smile gradually increased with each page he read.

"This is brilliant. It covers everything we need to get a conviction. There's no way any lawyer is going to be able to dispute this."

Fraser breathed a sigh of relief. It was soon going to be over. "Uh, Sir. About Meg, she will be able to come back, won't she?"

"Absolutely." The reply came immediately, filling Fraser's heart with a joy he had not felt in so long. "If not straight away, we're going to need her to testify at the hearing. She needs to tell the jury everything she knows about the death of Jenna Richards, everything Jenna told her before she died." Mike smiled. "Oh yes Constable, she's going to need to come back."

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	13. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_A/N: Only a few more chapters left now. _

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Once the wheels had been set in motion, everything moved quickly. The warrants for evidence and arrests were issued, the suspects remanded in custody. The date for the hearing was set only a short time from then. Apparently the judge wanted the trial fast-tracked to try to prevent any evidence or witness tampering.

As happy as he was that justice was being done, at that moment, thoughts of Canadian trials were far from the forefront of his mind. Stepping off of the plane into the warm French summer, Fraser looked around him. His conversation with Mike had not been entirely enlightening. As far as the superintendent was aware, Meg was in France. Paris to be precise. But where exactly, he didn't know. They had both decided it was safer if he didn't know any particular details of her location. She called in every once in a while, but Mike wasn't expecting a call any time soon.

So Fraser had applied for, and received, extended leave from the force. Phoning Ray, he had told him that a friend was in trouble, that he was going to help and may not be able to return to Chicago for some time. Ray had accepted this, and told his friend to stay in touch, to call if he needed anything. Fraser couldn't tell him how grateful he was for his friendship, he just hoped Ray would forgive him for deceiving him all this time. Hopefully he would understand.

So here he was, landing in Paris in the height of the tourist season, looking for a single person in a city of millions. He had an idea where to start though. He could remember a time in Chicago when he had overheard her talking to an art curator. Apparently she had spent a summer at the Sorbonne, studying the arts. Fraser knew it was a long shot, but perhaps she had returned to a place that was familiar to her, a tiny bit of comfort in an otherwise lonely environment.

Hailing a taxi, Fraser explained where he wanted to go and then held on to his seat as the cab accelerated around the corner and into the Parisian traffic.

------

A short while later, he was walking in the midday sun around the university campus. Not quite sure exactly what he was looking for, he found himself standing in front of the admissions office. Deciding it was worth a try, he entered the building. Inside, the air conditioning was refreshingly cool in comparison to the heat outside. Fraser moved towards the front desk, where an elderly lady sat reading a newspaper.

"Excuse me, madam."

"Oui?" The lady looked up at the gentleman who had entered her office. It was rare for people to want to enrol at the university in the middle of the summer – the summer courses had already begun and the autumn semester would be full by now. Perhaps he was just lost, looking for a tourist attraction, he had sounded American.

Fraser switched languages. "I was wondering if you could help me," he asked in flawless French. "I am trying to track down a friend of mine who recently moved to the city. Unfortunately I have lost her address, but I believe she may have taken a course here at the university. Is there any chance you could tell me if she's enrolled here?"

"I'm afraid I can't give out the addresses of our students, sir."

"That's OK madam, I only need to know if she is enrolled here. It really would mean a lot to me to be able to see her again, and I know it would mean a lot to her too." Fraser looked beseechingly at the elderly lady, hoping she would help him.

The woman looked at the gentleman stood on the other side of her desk. This woman was obviously an old girlfriend of some sort. What harm could it do to tell him if she was enrolled here or not? It wasn't as though she was giving out any private information and besides, if he had come all the way from America to see her, well, if it was her, she would want a man this polite and handsome looking her up when he came to her city.

"Ok, what's her name?"

"Thank you so much. It's Katherine Paige." Mike had given him the name on the documents they had supplied her with when she left the country, and told him that she had originally set out for England, but moved on to France following that. As far as he knew, there would be no need for her to change those documents, and she should still be going by that assumed name.

After a moment or two, the woman on the desk looked up. "Oui, we have a Katherine Paige registered here for an evening arts class."

"Thank you kindly, merci, merci." The look on the young man's face told her she had done the right thing in giving out this information. If the woman in question looked even half as happy to see him as he did at the mere thought of seeing her, well, that was a reunion the admissions officer knew she would pay to see any day.

As Fraser left the building, he picked up a leaflet detailing the evening classes run by the university. Two were arts-based – one in sculpture, and the other in classic art and painting. The second one on the list was on this evening, starting at 7.30 pm. As he considered what to do with his time until then, he realised that she may not even be enrolled on that course. Deciding that he needed to freshen up after the long flight over here, he began to search for a hotel. Finding a modest-looking hotel not too far from the campus, Fraser paid for a room and headed up for a shower.

The hours seemed to drag by as he waited for evening to arrive. After a light dinner in the hotel restaurant, Fraser headed back out into the streets of Paris. The evenings had thankfully lost some of the heat of the earlier day, though it was still pleasantly warm outside. Re-entering the campus, Fraser made his way to the building he had found earlier, in which the evening class was being held. The grassy campus had many benches and seats where students and visitors could enjoy a picnic or simply sit and watch the world go by. Fraser chose a bench away from the main path, where he could see the entrance to the building, but where he was not in obvious sight.

He was early, but he did not want to miss her arrival, if she was coming. As the first people started to arrive, Fraser sat up straighter. He was already tense at the thought of seeing her again after all this time, but now he was positively sitting on the edge of his seat. Would she have changed? Would he even recognise her if he saw her?

More people arrived and Fraser found himself searching their faces, desperately hoping to find the one he was looking for. In the end it was not her face that caught his attention. The woman walking towards the entrance did not look around her once, but there was something familiar about her. Her hair was a deep auburn red and longer than Meg's had been last time he had seen her, and yet the way she moved, as though on a purpose yet seemingly relaxed, reminded him of her. She was almost at the entrance now. If only she would look around, he would know. The hair might be different, but there was no way she could change her eyes, those eyes he could lose himself in. Turn around, please, he silently willed her to look in his direction. She was at the door now, but in that instant between pulling it open and entering the building, she glanced behind her, and he knew. He had found her.

She was gone before he could react, but she would be back, and this time he wouldn't be so slow. Settling himself back onto the bench he had almost fallen off, leaning so far forward as he had in his need to see the mystery woman's face, he let the thoughts of everything he had wanted to say over the past two years swirl round in his brain.

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	14. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Due South was not my creation and I do not own it, though if Alliance would like to give me the rights, I wouldn't complain. As it is, I make no claim on the show or the characters, and no infringement is meant._

_A/N: For those that have stuck with this story this far, we are fast approaching the end. Hopefully, you have enjoyed the ride. And now, on with the story..._

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The meeting was over and the first people had started to leave. People chatted and laughed with each other as they exited the building, some heading towards nearby parked cars, others cutting across the campus to the main streets of the city. He watched as she walked out. She was walking with another woman of similar age. The two seemed deep in conversation and he watched as her face broke into a gentle smile. How he wanted to hold her again, but he couldn't approach her here, not in front of all these people. He had imagined their reunion to be more private than this. How he wished that other woman would leave, go her separate way.

Keeping a safe distance behind, he watched as Meg and her friend moved towards the edge of the campus grounds. Here, finally, the friend left, walking away down the street to the left, whilst Meg turned right.

Fraser suddenly had no idea how he was going to approach her. What would he say? He had dreamed of this moment a thousand times and yet, now that he was here, nothing he had thought about saying seemed appropriate to the situation. Should he just call out her name? Would she recognise his voice? God knows he'd heard hers a thousand times in his dreams.

She was getting further ahead now, walking with an ease of someone familiar and comfortable with their environment. A brief thought crossed his mind, and he wondered if he could just follow her home, talk to here there, but that just brought up more questions. Did she live alone? Or was there someone waiting for her? Please no, Fraser didn't think he could bare that. No, he had to talk to her here, before she met anyone else she knew.

Suddenly, Meg turned aside, walking into one of the bars that lined the streets. Fraser briefly toyed with the idea of waiting for her to exit, before deciding to follow her in. If she saw him first, well, that just allowed her to be the one to make the first move.

The bar was set out in the form of a traditional jazz club. There was a grand piano set on a small stage, and all around the outer edges of the room were comfortable looking sofas and wooden tables. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light that illuminated the room from replica candle holders, Fraser began to search the room for her. His eyes finally settled on the far end of the long bar, where she was in conversation with the barman. He was pouring her a drink whilst they chatted and from their body language, Fraser was sure that the two knew each other. As he began to approach her, she turned, her dark eyes finally focusing on the man moving in her direction. The drink smashed onto the floor of the bar and yet Meg hardly seemed to notice. In fact, it wasn't until the barman was at her side, asking if she was alright, that she finally dragged her eyes away from man she'd walked away from nearly two years ago.

Pierre, the barman, was laughing now, saying something about her clumsiness, offering her another drink, but Meg couldn't focus. How had he found her? She thought she'd been careful. What had tipped him off? Running through everything she'd done in the last few weeks, she could think of nothing that would immediately alert him to her presence here in Paris. Why was he looking anyway? She thought when she'd left him in the cabin, that that was it, she never thought she would see him again.

Finally managing to make her muscles obey her brain, Meg forced herself to walk forward. As she reached him, she felt all the feelings she had worked so hard to bury try to force themselves back up to the surface.

"Fraser?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but even over the music playing in the bar, Fraser heard her clearly.

"Yes ma'am." The old title came easily.

"What are you doing here? I thought…you, um," she faltered then, not sure what it was that she thought, everything had suddenly become very confused inside her head.

"I had to see you, there's so much I need to tell you." Looking around the bar, Fraser realised that this was not exactly the setting he had wanted to have this conversation in. "But, perhaps here is not the best place."

"I guess we could go back to my place." She still seemed hesitant, as though not quite sure she should believe what she was seeing.

"OK."

------

It turned out that she lived not far from the bar, and the walk over was quick. All the way, both were silent, neither knowing exactly how to start the conversation both so desperately wanted to have.

In the end it was Fraser who started, launching into one of his monologues, detailing everything that had happened since he had seen her last. Meg could only listen in shock, sitting as she now was at the kitchen table in her apartment. When he had finally finished, silence descended on the pair. Fraser's brow creased in concern. Meg had hardly said two words during his explanation and was being no more communicative now. Had he made her angry by coming here? He didn't know. Perhaps she had never wanted to see him again, after what had happened between them in the cabin. When she finally did speak, it was not the words he was expecting.

"You did all that for me?" He voice was soft and full of wonderment at the man sat opposite her.

"Yes."

"Oh God." Meg turned away, her hand coming up to rub across her brow. Fraser wasn't sure what to say. Had he upset her? He didn't understand what he had done wrong.

"I'm sorry, I, um, I didn't mean…" He didn't know what he was apologising for, though he was sure there must be something.

"No, it just, um," Meg took a deep breath, "no-one's ever done anything like that for me before. I can't believe you went to so much trouble."

"It was no trouble," Fraser reassured her, glad she was not angry with him.

"Fraser, it's been almost two years. You shouldn't have given up so much for me." She turned her head away from him again. As Fraser watched her, a thought crossed him mind. Did she really not understand what she meant to him? If there was a chance he could make her happy, he would have given his life for it.

Reaching across the table, Fraser gently turned her head to face his, looking straight into her eyes.

"I would have done anything to bring you home." The statement was simple, but Meg felt her eyes begin to sting. Months of unshed tears threatened to overcome her as his clear blue eyes seemed to look straight through the layers she hid behind.

"I can't give you what you want, Fraser."

His hand dropped from her face. Did she really think he had done all this just to have some kind of claim on her?

"I never…"

"I'm sorry." Both spoke at the same time, their words mingling in the heavy air that surrounded them. Finally, it was Fraser who began again.

"I'd never ask for anything like that from you, ma'am."

Meg looked at him suddenly, puzzlement written plainly on her face.

"Why not?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't you think you've earned it?"

Fraser didn't understand what she was saying. Was she implying that she thought he would expect something more from her, or that he would somehow force himself on her, as some kind of payment? How could she think that about him?

"I don't…I would never do that."

"Why not?" It was that question again. That question he just didn't know how to answer. What did she want him to say?

"How could you think that I…?"

Meg got up suddenly, walking to the window. She leant on the frame, hugging herself as she stared at the lights twinkling across the city. She was silent for a long time. Fraser didn't know what to say. How could he explain? He had never imagined this conversation to go this way, but somehow, somewhere along the line, the happy news he had come to tell her had turned into accusations and suspicion and he had no idea how to bring it back.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft and filled with sadness. "You do all this for me and the best I can do is accuse you of having ulterior motives." She still remained facing away from him, watching the darkness settle ever further over the nearby buildings.

Fraser stood up, moving to stand beside her. She shifted slightly at his presence, but didn't move away again. "I missed you." He spoke to the window, too afraid of the reaction he might get to look directly at her. "But I would never force you into something you didn't want."

Her silence was beginning to unnerve him, but he had started and now it was up to her.

"I know." Finally she turned to look at him, and he was startled to discover the presence of tears on her cheeks.

She felt his hand gently touch her face, wiping away the droplets that remained.

"You deserve better. Better than me."

He shook his head. "I want you." He watched her close her eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath.

"I don't know how much I can give you, Fraser."

"It doesn't matter, Meg. Whatever you offer will be enough."

Her deep brown pools of her eyes swirled with all the emotions she was feeling, finally settling on him in wonderment.

"How do you do it? How do you overlook all the horrible things I do to you enough to stand there and say that you want me? You really do deserve better, Fraser."

Again he shook his head. "You are one of the smartest, strongest people I know, Meg. You've handled everything the world and the RCMP has thrown at you and yet you are not afraid to make the difficult choices to protect the people you care about. How could I ask for more?"

"I'm a mess, Fraser. I don't handle things. I just stumble around desperately trying not to get the people close to me killed."

As he reached for her, Meg pushed against his chest, trying to pull away from his embrace, but he just gathered her closer. He held her tightly against his body as she fought against him.

"No," her voice came out in a sob.

"I love you." She shook her head, refusing to believe his words, but her hands gripped the fabric of the t-shirt he was wearing, before sliding around his neck. Finally, Fraser felt her break down in his arms. He could feel where her tears made wet patches on his shoulder, but he didn't care. He held her for a long time while she cried, knowing she needed to let go off all the tension she had been living with for the past two years.

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	15. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Still not mine._

_A/N:Things heat up a little in this chapter - if you don't like that kind of thing, skip the first half._

_This isit - the final chapter..._

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When she finally stilled in his arms, Fraser found he did not want to let her go. In fact, he never wanted to let her go again. She shifted slightly, raising her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. As his hand moved up to brush away the last remnants of tears from her cheeks, he felt her hand slide into his hair, the pressure applied to the back of his head enough to draw him down to her.

He knew he shouldn't, she was still upset but he couldn't help himself. Her lips were soft under his and her mouth hot as his tongue sought entrance. One of his hands wound through her soft red hair, whilst the other snaked down her back, pulling her ever closer against him. Her arms were still around his shoulders and he could feel her fingers caressing the back of his neck as she kissed him back.

He felt her moan against him softly as his tongue entered her mouth once more, his hand pulling at her top to feel the smooth flesh beneath. Her hands slid down the front of his chest to the base of his t-shirt, sliding underneath the material before moving up to graze his nipples, causing Fraser to echo her earlier moans. This only caused her to rub the sensitive skin harder between her fingers. Fraser found the base of her own top and tugged it roughly over her head, forcing her hands to stop their ministrations on his chest. He discarded the top on the floor, drawing her back into his embrace, revelling in the feel of her bare skin in his arms.

His lips kissed any bare flesh he could reach, dipping lower towards her breasts. Just as his mouth reached her bra, his fingers made light work of the clasp, letting the soft lace fall away and his hot lips take its place. Meg moaned as his mouth closed around her nipple, sucking and nibbling until the flesh stood hard as pebbles. As he moved to lavish the same attention on her other breast, his hands slid down to the waste band of her jeans. Meg suddenly realised that he was getting her very naked very quickly. Spying the blue t-shirt he was wearing, she reached down over his head and the t-shirt soon lay discarded with the rest of her clothes. Fraser moved to reclaim her mouth in a scorching kiss, revelling in the feel of her breasts pressed against his bare chest.

Meg gasped as his hands moved down her back to clutch her ass. She allowed her hips to press against his own, delighting in the resulting moan her actions caused. It wasn't long before she felt Fraser's hand slide between them again, though this time she did not stop him. He sank gently onto his knees, kissing her stomach, as his hands traced the line of each of her legs, pushing the jeans gently to the floor. Meg stepped out of them and stood before him, wearing only her simple lace panties. Fraser got to his feet, pulling off his own jeans quickly, before drawing her close. As he kissed her again, he gently turned her around, moving her backwards. Meg gasped as she suddenly felt herself be picked up. Fraser moved them into the bedroom, lying her down on the soft mattress. Removing the last barriers of clothing from between them, he allowed his hand to trace the lines of her body, finally settling between her legs.

Meg moaned in anticipation as he pressed first one and then two fingers deep into her. Watching her face, Fraser saw the look of total arousal cross her features. Moving inside of her, he could feel her muscles throbbing around his fingers. His own erection was becoming almost painful with his want for her. He felt her begin to tighten around him and, smiling as her breathing became more and more erratic, he gently slid his fingers from her. She moaned in frustration.

"Oh God, Ben." Her voice sounded almost strained as she pleaded with him. "Ben, please."

Her words were too much for him. Moving to lie between her legs, he felt her body writhing beneath him. Moving his hand down to steady her hips, he entered her gently. Finding her lips, he whispered against them.

"I love you."

------

Meg awoke the following morning, feeling the strong arms of Benton Fraser wrapped around her naked body. Shifting slightly to look at him, she let the memories of last night wash over her. She smiled as the scene of their lovemaking replayed in her head. He had been so powerful and yet so gentle, knowing exactly how to make her cry out with a passion so great she thought she might pass out from the intensity.

She felt the soreness between her legs where their bodies had joined urgently in the passion that had threatened to consume the both of them. Running her fingers down the lines of his chest, she felt him stir beneath her. His eyes fluttered slightly before finally focusing on her. He smiled and his hand reached out to caress her face. He let her soft hair fall through her fingers.

"Red suits you."

Meg smiled at the familiar complement. "I did it for you. Or, well, I did it thinking about you."

He leant forward, kissing her.

"God, I missed you so much," he breathed.

"I missed you too."

A comfortable silence settled over the couple. Meg was enjoying the feeling of being in his arms, his embrace a protective shield from the harsh world outside. She never wanted to leave this island they had created. But she knew they couldn't just stay here forever, there were things they both had to do, duties to perform.

"What's going to happen? With the trial, I mean."

Fraser's arms tightened around her slightly. "They need you to testify to what Jenna told you during your meetings with her. And," he paused slightly, not wanting to bring up the rest of the case.

"They're going to want me to talk about Matt?" Her voice was soft, but resigned.

"Yes. Matt and the photos you were sent, the threats you received." She nodded and he found himself once again marvelling at her strength.

Suddenly she turned in him arms, moving on to her front, her chin resting on his chest. His hands went automatically to the small of her back, steadying her as she moved.

"What about after?"

"After the trial?"

"Yes." She felt his chest rise and fall beneath her, as he considered how to answer her.

"Well," he said after a long pause, "I guess we go home."

"Home?" The question was written plainly on her face. Fraser's hand moved up to brush an errant strand of hair off of her face.

"Chicago, Toronto, the Yukon. It doesn't matter to me. As long as I'm with you, I'll be home." At his words Meg felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. What was wrong with her? She never cried, and yet in the last few hours she had seemed to be doing nothing but. Fraser must think she was an emotional basket case. But no, looking down at him again, she knew he would never think such a thing. He seemed to be able to look at her and see only the good. She only hoped she wouldn't disappoint him.

"I love you." Fraser blue eyes sparkled as she spoke. She had never said the words before, but she knew, without a doubt that she loved this man. Loved him more than she had ever loved anyone, and it was only fair that he knew.

He leant towards her, drawing her into a long, slow kiss that left them both breathless. Eventually drawing away, Fraser smiled into the depths of her eyes.

"I love you, too."

------

_A/N: Ok, I lied -there is an epilogue pending. You didn't think I'd just leave it there, did you? ;-)_


	16. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: Due South and all its characters belong to Alliance._

_A/N: Well, here it is - the absolute final chapter. Those of you who have actually stuck through to the end - I hope you have enjoyed it. Those of you who haven't, well, I hope you enjoyed the bit you did read! _

_--------------_

_3 Months Later_

Constable Benton Fraser walked out of the courtroom, breathing in the cold winter air of Ottawa. He looked towards the sky, noticing that it looked as though a fresh fall of snow would come later in the day. He liked the snow. It was never as pure or as white as the snow in the Yukon, but it was better than nothing.

It was finally over. The case had been fast-tracked, rushed through the courts by a judge who didn't want to risk any evidence being corrupted over time. When he and Meg had arrived in Ottawa, they'd taken her straight away and hidden her. She was to be the link that tied all the different pieces of the case together, but the prosecution wanted the element of surprise so she had to remain hidden for just a little while longer. He'd barely seen her, except in secret meetings Mike had managed to set up for them, or in the court during the trial. She had been fantastic, as he knew she would be. His own testimony had explained how he had managed to track down the evidence, but the moment Meg had taken the stand, he knew that it would be her testimony that would put these people away. Her recollection was incredible. She remembered every detail she was asked for and explained everything in a clear level voice, even when the subject of the threats on her and Matt was brought up. She had been the one to get the unanimous guilty verdict, and Fraser found he had never been so proud of her than he was at that moment.

Finally, Fraser's thoughts turned towards Chicago. Ray would be waiting for him, eager to hear the details of the case that had kept his friend occupied for so long. He had tried to explain, tried to tell him about Meg, but somehow the words would not come. He wasn't ready to face the repercussions of his secret yet, knowing Ray would be angry. After Victoria, he had promised never to keep something like that from Ray again. Fraser smiled ruefully, wondering if, in Ray's eyes, keeping a relationship with a supposed dead person secret was worse than having a relationship with a criminal.

Suddenly Fraser felt a pair of hands slide around his waste. Smiling down at the woman in his arms, he felt a happiness settle over him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"So, Constable." Meg voice was light. "What are we going to do now we are finally free?"

"Well, I was thinking about some dinner, maybe a gentle stroll through the snow, and then back to my hotel for dessert."

Meg grinned. "Dessert?" He answered her smile with one of his own.

"Uh huh."

"Well, I do fancy something sweet. In fact, you know, I think I could go straight for dessert."

"Really?"

"Absolutely." Fraser laughed, pulling her close and kissing those lips which he'd so missed.

------

Lying together on the large hotel bed, Fraser broached the subject he had been thinking about earlier.

"You know, we're going to have to go back to Chicago, tell Ray at some point."

Meg slapped his chest lightly. "You're ruining the mood, Ben. And besides, he's your friend, you tell him."

Fraser laughed. "Hey, I thought we were in this together."

"Yes, well. Maybe if I show up, he'll faint from the shock and hit his head on something and then we can just claim we told him and he won't remember anything different."

"Meg!"

"What? It's an idea."

"Hmm."

"What's that supposed to mean."

Fraser grinned. "It means, I fancy seconds on dessert." Pulling her towards him and kissing her hard, suppressing her giggles, Fraser drew the covers over their heads. They would deal with whatever was to come later. Ray would accept their relationship and, given a little bit of time, he might even be happy for them.

As for Meg, well, he had no intention of ever letting her go again, so she was just going to have to get used to being looked after. Lying there in bed, he realised that he had never heard her laugh before. Deciding that it was possibly the nicest sound he had ever heard, he vowed to do everything in his power to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

The End


End file.
